Photos on the Wall
by MysteryGal5
Summary: Maxon has a shrine of photos dedicated to America, but what is the story behind each photo? (OS series) (pre-The Crown) [KIND OF ON HIATUS]
1. Photo 1: Seven Minutes

**This is my very first _The Selection_ fanfic so I'm just going to apologize in advance in case anyone is OOC. Anyways, here are some things you ought to know about this fic. The first part for every chapter takes place during _The Heir_ when Eadlyn is looking at the photos on Maxon's wall. The second part for every chapter will literally take place from any point in America and Maxon's engagement, up to where Eadlyn is while she's looking at the photos - basically the story of each photo.**

 **Funny thing, this wasn't even the first chapter I wrote for this story.**

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Photo #1: Seven Minutes

Eadlyn knows she shouldn't be in her father's room, but after the sudden news of her mother's heart attack, she couldn't bear to see anyone. She had to be a symbol of power and nobody could ever see her break down. As she wipes her hands with the back of her hand, she notices a collage of photos on her father's bedroom wall. As Eadlyn gets a closer look, she sees one thing all the photos have in common.

Her mother. A perfect shrine to her mother represented by many photos on the wall.

The first picture Eadlyn sees is her mother holding her and Ahren on the day they were born. Even when covered in sweat and all her baby hairs sticking out at the side of her head, her mother was still the most beautiful woman she has ever seen.

-o-

"We did it, love," Maxon says, kissing the side of America's head.

" _We?_ " America repeats, heavily panting for air. "I carried those two babies for nine months, threw up everything I craved, and pushed both of them out. All you did was get me pregnant and stand there while I screamed through contractions."

Speechless, Maxon blinks a few times. In response, he takes America's hand and kisses the side of her head once again.

"I am proud of _you_ , love," Maxon tells her. "Most women have to go through a caesarean when delivering twins or just for the second one, but you were able to deliver both of them perfectly, and with only a seven minute difference."

America beams with pride. Maxon rubs her shoulders.

"I pushed fast to get it over with," America says with a little grin. "That was so painful."

Maxon smiles proudly. A doctor walks in with his nurse, each of them carrying a baby. One baby wrapped in pink and the other in blue.

"Both of them are in perfect health," the doctor says. "Ten fingers and ten toes each. Would you like to hold them?"

America nods with tears of joy forming in her eyes. She stretches her arms outwards and wiggles her fingers excitedly at the sight of her twins. The doctor gently hands her the one swaddled in pink and the nurse does the same with the one swaddled in blue. America gasps as her tears fall out. In her arms are two precious lives her and Maxon created.

"Hi, babies," America says softly to the both of them. "Welcome to the world."

The doctor and nurse give Maxon a small bow as they scurry out. Maxon closes the door behind them as he watches his beautiful wife hold their beautiful twins. He takes a second to hold his camera to his eye and focus it on the genuine sight. America, glistened in sweat and joy, still proved to be the most beautiful woman in his life. In her arms laid the two most sacred lives in the kingdom and to himself.

Maxon quietly snaps the photo to save the moment. Everything about that snapshot was perfect.

"Come meet your Daddy," America whispers to the sleeping twins.

Maxon stands behind America's shoulder and leans closer to get the perfect view of his twins. He cries a few tears of joy as well as he holds onto her shoulders and they both look at their creations.

"Hello, my little Prince and Princess," Maxon whispers.

* * *

 **This photo was mentioned in the book. I am also open to writing your ideas because they are most likely better than whatever I came with.**

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	2. Photo 2: Frosted Faces

**Just like the last chapter, this photo was mentioned in the book.**

 **Also, I forgot to mention the disclaimers so here goes: all the characters belong to the wonderful Kiera Cass**

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Photo #2: Frosted Faces

Eadlyn has been to her share of royal parties. Whenever she would be talking to people older than her, they would always comment on how extravagant the party was. Eadlyn would usually agree. Then if the person she was talking to was way older than her, they would usually bring up the fact that the wedding/coronation of her parents was the biggest celebration of all Illéa. Eadlyn wouldn't believe it because she didn't think a royal wedding/coronation could be a smashing party, but looking at this next photo proves her wrong.

Her mother is in her wedding dress with her hair pinned up and makeup done so subtle yet exquisite. Beside her mother is her father in a crisp suit and tie. Both of them with crowns on their heads and cake in their faces.

-o-

"Now presenting, your new King and Queen of Illéa and for the first time as newlyweds, King Maxon Schreave and Queen America Schreave!"

The wedding guests rise from their seats and applaud Gavril for his announcement, some even clinking their glasses with their forks as the royal couple march in. Everyone gives them a small bow or curtsy. America and Maxon wave to them, his arm wrapped around her waist.

"My dear Queen," Maxon annouces to everyone. "Please present our distinguished guests with your first order as your new status."

"My dear King," America responds in the same way. "I demand for our people to get off their seats and dance with us!"

On the dance floor, everyone forgot their manners, including the new King and Queen. Maxon danced with the women of the Singer family as America boogied with the women from her Selection who showed up to celebrate. Maxon shared a dance with Marlee, Elise, and Natalie as America danced with Aspen and even Carter for a bit. Finally, the room dimmed down and the dance floor cleared for the newlyweds to share their first dance as husband and wife.

America leans into Maxon with her arms wrapped around his neck. Maxon's nestled in her fiery red locks and his arms wrap around America's waist, with her heels dangling in his hands. At one point in the middle of the song, they look at each other and share a quick kiss.

When it was time to cut the cake, everyone gathered around the multi-layered cake. America and Maxon hold the knife handle and gently slice a hearty slice for the both of them to share. Everyone expected them to do the romantic cliché where they would link arms and feed each other a little bite of the cake, but that didn't happen for them.

Maxon holds the plate and America cuts the corner of their piece off with her fork. She proceeds to taste it but stops when Maxon pushes the plate up to her face.

America gasps as Maxon laughs at his frosted beauty. In return, America grabs a handful of the cake and smashes it in Maxon's face. He grabs her in a kiss and America dumps more on his beautiful hair.

Photographers suround them, capturing every moment of their wedding. Every smile, laugh, kiss, and tear was caught on camera to be remembered forever.

* * *

 **Now for the ideas I came up with. I promise you'll love them. Don't be scared to recommend an idea if you have one.**

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	3. Photo 3: Accented Notes

**I am loving all the positive feedback so far. Thank you all so much.**

 **I actually play piano and this part was an actual critique of my grade seven exam. Meanwhile, I just finished my grade eight one and maybe passed.**

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Photo #3: Accented Notes

Eadlyn knew she wasn't a replica of her mother. For starters, she didn't inherit any of her mother's physical attributes. Instead of fiery red hair, she got dark chocolate brown; instead of crystal blue eyes, she got soft hazel. Even her three brothers were exact copies of her father (simply without the added years). If anyone saw them together in public without any knowledge of who they were, no one would guess they were mother and daughter.

The picture Eadlyn sees is herself when she was about four-years-old and her mother sitting on a piano bench. Eadlyn looks closer and that's when she realizes that she didn't share her mother's talents for music either. Her mother tried to make her musical, but the notes just didn't cooperate with her.

-o-

Maxon walks through the palace halls, hearing a harmonious piano playing scales in the background. He hums along, but unintentionally chokes on his breath when he hears the wrong note being played. Maxon's not a musician, but any human ear can distinguish when a scale is played incorrectly. Maxon peeks his head through the door of the Women's Room and sees America attempting to teach Eadlyn how to play the piano.

"Remember, Eadlyn," America says, placing Eadlyn's right hand on the piano. "Every scale follows a different pattern of notes. You must also follow the fingering pattern it comes with."

"This is hard," Eadlyn says with a little frown.

"It just takes a lot of practice, sweetie. C'mon, let's do C major again."

Eadlyn starts in middle C position and America plays an octave lower. They both play the scale slowly, in sync with each other. Maxon leans against the doorframe, not daring to make a sound or step inside. He doesn't want to interrupt them nor is he allowed the Women's Room without permission. When the two of them finish the scale, Eadlyn plays the final note louder than the rest. America smiles down at her and that's when Maxon snaps the photo of the two of them.

"Try not to add an accent on your thumb notes," America advises.

"I'm not," Eadlyn says. "The notes can't talk."

America sighs with a little laugh. Even Maxon feels himself grinning.

"Eadlyn, an accent in music is when you would play a certain note or chord louder than the rest," America explains. "You understand?"

Eadlyn looks up at her mother and blinks her big, hazel eyes before nodding. America smiles at her.

"Now, let go from the top."

* * *

 **Oh Eadlyn, you would be begging to play C major scale when you would have to play the freaking formula pattern of B minor or staccato scales.**

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	4. Photo 4: Our Fourth

**Note: their ages for the past part may be wrong but that's simply because I can't count**

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Photo #4: Our Fourth

Eadlyn remembers when her mother told them she was expecting Osten. She really hoped it was a girl so she could finally have a little sister, but the odds were not in her favor. Nevertheless, she loved Osten anyways. When the kingdom found out the King and Queen were pregnant with their fourth, they were over-the-moon excited.

The next photo Eadlyn sees is one where her mother is sitting on a hospital bed holding the newborn baby Osten and looking down at him with absolute love. Eadlyn and Ahren, ten at the time, both standing on opposite sides of their mother. Kaden, six at the time, was on top of the hospital bed, peering over the newborn's sky blue swaddle.

-o-

America went into labor about a week earlier than her predicted due date in the middle of the night. She woke up the moment a contraction hit. A couple maids ran over to help and the kids each peeked out of their bedroom, scared of what was happening. Maxon gathered all of his kids in the hallway and crouched down to face all of them.

"Very soon, you will have your new little brother," Maxon told them softly. "Go get some shut eye and I will wake you."

Eadlyn, Ahren, and Kaden nestle together in their parents bed. The three of them find themselves wide awake, with their mother's screams still fresh in their minds. All of them hold hands and tilt their heads together and pray for the best.

Two hours later, Maxon slowly opens the door to his room and sees his kids fast asleep on the bed. He quietly walks over and shakes Eadlyn awake, causing all three kids to flutter their eyes open.

"Ready to meet your little brother?" Maxons whispers excitedly to them.

The three kids nod as they hop out of the bed and follow their father to the hospital wing. Once there, they stay as silent as possible as Maxon opens the door for them. Sitting up in a hospital bed is their mother in pristine condition, looking down at the newborn baby with a full smile. When America sees her other kids, she encourages them to come over. Eadlyn and Ahren take one side of the bed and Kaden climbs on.

"Kaden!" Maxon whispers-screams.

"It's alright," America responds.

"Meet Osten Schreave," America introduces the newest member to their family.

Maxon quickly snaps a photo of everyone looking down at the little baby. America's face with love, Eadlyn and Ahren's faces with joy, and Kaden's with curiosity.

"Can I hold him?" Eadlyn asks her mom,

"I want to hold him," Ahren says.

"I want to!" Kaden exclaims.

The three children start to bicker, Eadlyn uses the point that she was born first to help her case. America looks down at Osten who starts to make little noises in his sleep, hoping he won't start crying. America looks at Maxon who joined their argument and rolls their eyes. With one swoop of her hand, they're all silent.

"Give it some time," America responds to her kids before meeting Maxon's eyes. She passes the baby to Maxon and like with America, the kids crane up with awe.

* * *

 **I purposely put this one as the fourth chapter.**

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	5. Photo 5: Double Trouble

**I know Josie and Kaden are a year apart, but I really wanted to write this and I wrote it in a way that makes sense. Well, I hope it makes sense.**

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Photo #5: Double Trouble

After America and Marlee had their first children, they promised each other to try and have their second pregnancy at the same time. Both best friends wanted to experience the joy of pregnancy together and share the glow that came with it. They didn't share it the first time around, but the second time was the charm.

Eadlyn smiles at the corner of her mouth as she looks at the photo of her mother with Lady Marlee. Lady Marlee was heavily pregnant with Josie and her mother was just starting to show her bump with Kaden. Both ladies holding their hands out to the other's bump with their mouths open in excitement.

-o-

"When is your little girl due?" Maxon asks Marlee and Carter.

"End of the year," Carter replies.

"I can't wait for a daughter!" Marlee squeals, gripping Carter's arm tightly. "Don't tell Kile though, I think he's still in denial about having a little sister since he's wanted a brother."

Maxon chuckles. "Kile has Ahren to play with, and who knows, next year he will have our baby; granted that he's a boy. It is still too early for us to tell."

"Where is America?" Carter asks.

At that moment, America prances gracefully in the room, causing all eyes to turn to her. Her red hair is lightly curled as it rests on the shoulders of her knee-high peach dress, showing off her mini-baby bump. Maxon smiles at the sight of his beautiful wife as Marlee gasps.

"You're finally showing!" Marlee exclaims, rushing over to embrace her friend.

"I had to search for my maternity clothes," America says. "After that, I had to pick a dress I liked."

"Marlee just bought a whole new wardrobe," Carter says. Marlee turns around and grins at him.

The two best friends look at each other and the difference in the size of their baby bumps. Their eyes are filled with joy as their hands are stretched out. Maxon pulls out his camera and quickly snaps a photo of the two women, knowing they would thank him for it later.

"Oh, Carter..." Maxon whispers just loud enough for the other man to hear, not wanting to ruin the happiness from their wives. "What have we done? Soon there will be five noisy, little children running around the palace."

Carter whistles downhill at the sudden thought of that. He lightly claps Maxon's shoulder and gently laughs.

"You have an office and I work outdoors," Carter replies. "We'll be fine."

* * *

 **Carter is literally me as a parent.**

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	6. Photo 6: Butterscotch

**I actually did my research for this and looked up horse names. You're welcome. Also, I don't remember if Butterscotch was a girl or a boy so I just assumed it was a girl.**

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Photo #6: Butterscotch

Eadlyn was not an athlete. Frankly, she never found an interest in sports. She didn't like the idea of getting sweaty and body odour ruining her crisp and perfect image. However, when she first got exposed to horseback riding, it struck her eye. It was a sport where the person did little-to-no work and the only smell to worry about was the horse. That, and she can design different riding outfits for herself.

Her parents noticed and bought her a light, creamy brown horse when she was about ten-years-old.

This is Eadlyn's favorite photo to date. It's her younger-self sitting on top of her horse, Butterscotch, with the biggest awestruck smile on her face. Her mother stands behind her, holding her back, and glowing radiantly at her daughter.

-o-

"Thank you! Thank you!" Eadlyn screams as she runs over to her new horse.

Eadlyn approaches her new horse and looks up at the new creature curiously. As a stablehand begins applying the saddle, America and Maxon head over to Eadlyn. Their little girl gently places her hand on the horse's nose. The horse shakes its head and Eadlyn steps back a little. She still smiles as she proceeds to stroke the faded blond hair of her horse.

"What's its name?" Eadlyn asks her parents.

"It's your horse," America replies. "You name it."

"I don't know what to name it."

"How about a strong, powerful name?" Maxon suggests. Liking the idea of strength for a horse name, Eadlyn listens. "How about Ace? Champion?"

Eadlyn thinks about it. She looks at her horse and tries to picture it as an Ace or a Champion. Eadlyn shakes her head.

"Phoenix?" Maxon continues to suggest. "Magnum?"

Eadlyn still shakes her head, declining all the names. Maxon looks at America for help in deciding name. America looks at the horse and tries to think of strong horse names.

"Thunder?" America suggests. "Lightning? Thor?"

Eadlyn still shakes her head.

"My horse is royalty," Eadlyn states proudly. "It has a high status. It's the horse of the future queen."

"How about Prince?" Maxon suggests.

"Daddy, my horse is a girl."

"Right, love, then Princess?"

Eadlyn still shakes her head. Maxon and America look at each other, exchanging looks that read that it was easier to name their children than this horse. Eadlyn looks back at her horse and sees that it isn't scared of her. They just met for the first time and her horse is already nuzzling its snout into Eadlyn's dark hair. Eadlyn laughs a little and she realizes that her horse is gentle and kind.

"Butterscotch," Eadlyn states.

"Pardon us, Eadlyn?" Maxon says.

"Her name is Butterscotch," Eadlyn repeats. "It's her color and she's as sweet as it."

Maxon looks at America and his dear wife is smiling content. She heads over to Eadlyn and hoists her up on Butterscotch. America hands Eadlyn the reins and the princess holds them with utter excitement. She holds her back to keep Eadlyn's posture perfect and to ensure that she doesn't fall off. Maxon grins to himself as he captures a photo of Eadlyn's first ride on Butterscotch.

* * *

 **Honestly, I would've named my horse after food or any fictional character I love. What about you?**

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	7. Photo 7: King of Diapers

**The moment I came up with this idea, I knew I had to write it. It is so cute and funny, I really hope you love it.**

* * *

Photo #7: King of Diapers

Eadlyn can't really explain what's going on in the next photo because she can't depict what's happening.

Her parents are young and her mother looks to be in her second-trimester of pregnancy, which leads Eadlyn to believe that her mother was pregnant with her and Ahren. Her mother has one hand resting on her bump and the other is at her mouth covering it, as if she's resisting laughter. In front of her mother is her father and this is the part that has Eadlyn confused. Her father has a look of pure horror on his face and a baby doll in his hands.

-o-

"This is so complicated!" Maxon exclaims in frustration.

"Maxon," America says calmingly. "We're going to be having twins which means double. Changing diapers isn't that hard."

"It's simple," Marlee adds with a nod from Carter.

"Because you three have grown up with younger siblings or baby cousins, nieces, and nephews," Maxon tells the three of them. "Carter, Marlee, you two have a son!"

Maxon takes a breath and backs away from the little practice booth (which was the clear section of America's vanity in her bedroom). He thinks thay having the nannies take care of the diaper-changing would make his life easier. America and Marlee share a look of consideration. America steps forward and takes Maxon's hand again. She leads them back to the little practice booth and hands him the little baby doll they were using as their makeshift baby.

"Let's try this again," America says, providing Maxon with a fresh diaper. "Just listen to our steps and perform them on the baby. Any questions?"

"Just one," Maxon says, looking at Marlee and Carter. "Where on earth did you get a baby doll?"

"It was a gift from the relatives," Carter answers. "Before we told them we were expecting a boy."

"Now listen to me, Maxon Schreave," America says, putting her husband's focus back on the baby doll. "First, lay out the clean diaper on the changing station."

Maxon follows his wife's instructions. America hands him the baby doll that already has a "dirty diaper" on it.

"At this point, you would unfasten the dirty diaper off the baby," America says. "If it's only wet, then just slide it out from underneath."

"Make sure to cover its wee-wee if it's a boy," Marlee adds sheepishly. Maxon looks at her oddly. "Boys tend to pee a little during diaper changes."

Maxon nods, trying not to think too much of that. Marlee passes him a package of baby wipes and instructs him to clean the baby's bottom. Maxon cleans the already-clean doll and discards the not-really-used wipe. Then, Maxon puts the doll on top of the clean diaper. He follows the folding directions on the cloth diaper and takes a pin from America. As Maxon fastens the diaper, a baby's cry is heard and Maxon almost freaks out, thinking it was the doll.

"That must be Kile," Carter says. "I'll go check up on him."

Carter leaves the room just as Maxon holds up the newly-changed baby doll. America and Marlee give him a small round of applause.

"Take a picture," America says.

Marlee grabs the camera on Maxon's dresser and points it at the royal couple. Before she clicks to snap the photo, Carter comes running back in with his crooked smile on his face and Kile still screaming in the background.

"What's wrong?" Marlee asks Carter. "Does he need a feeding?"

"No," Carter replies, resisting a laugh. "He needs a changing. I was wondering if King Maxon would like to do the honors."

Marlee looks at Maxon who's face just drops in fear of changing an actual baby. America rests one hand on her bump and the other one covers a laugh. Marlee snaps a photo of that scene instead.

* * *

 **Do you know now weird it is to sit in a Starbucks and google "how to change diapers"? It's weird.**

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	8. Photo 8: My Sweet (Tooth)

**Honestly, this chapter is just adorable. This chapter made me say: "I want a Maxon Schreave."**

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Photo #8: My Sweet (Tooth)

Eadlyn knows that if there's one thing she has in common with her mom, it's their love for sweets. Sure, Eadlyn prefers chocolate and her mother prefers fruit tarts, but in general, they were both sweet tooths.

The picture she looks at has her mother at such a young age. Eadlyn believes it was taken early into her marriage. Her mother has such a youthful glow and sparkling smile as she munches on a delectable strawberry tart. Her eyes are bright with passion and life, only making Eadlyn's heart swell.

-o-

"My queen," a chef calls, approaching her. "How are the desserts for tonight's gala?"

The chef who asked along with a few of his sous-chefs hold out trays that are filled with multitudes of desserts. America holds up her hands and folds them in an adoring surprise. Rows and rows of chocolates drizzles with various sauces, donut balls with powdered sugar, miniature pies with meringue, cupcakes with fluffy frosting, tarts with medleys of fresh fruit, truffles with cocoa powder; it all makes her mouth water.

"It's perfect," America gushes, licking her lips.

"Take one, your Majesty," the chef encourages.

How could she take just one? Unless it was one of everything. America wants to try them all, but knows she simply couldn't. Her fingers hover over all the different desserts, debating which one to pick. Her eyes change from which delight to sample before she finally settles on a classic strawberry tart.

"Thank you," America says.

The chefs bow their heads before scurrying back to the kitchen.

America takes a bite into the tart and almost passes out by how mouth-watering it is. From the flaky and buttery crust, to the sweet strawberries, and the sugary topping; it was truly a delectable dessert. America closes her eyes, only to savor it all more. She opens her eyes to take another bite, but stops when she sees Maxon with his camera pointed at her.

"Maxon!" America exclaims.

"Why can't you look at me the same way you look at that tart?" Maxon questions playfully.

America giggles. "Why must you always be taking pictures of me?"

"You are my beautiful queen, my wife, my muse." Maxon holds the camea to his eye and focuses it on America. "C'mon, love, smile for me."

America glares at him. Maxon gives her a face.

"Smile for the tart, at least," Maxon begs. "The strawberries and your hair are aesthetically pleasing to the eye."

America looks back at her tart and shines brighter than ever as she bites into it. Maxon smiles as he snaps the photo of his sweet with her sweet tooth.

* * *

 **That is literally how I eat sweets, not gonna lie. I just don't look graceful doing it. America and the tart are relationship goals.**

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	9. Photo 9: Fussy Little Eater

**Bernice, I love your idea and will definitely write it.**

 **This was actually the first chapter I wrote out by hand.**

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Photo #9: Fussy Little Eater

Eadlyn presses down on the corners of one of the pictures to remove the glare reflecting on it. She tilts her head in confusion when she sees a picture of her mom with drops of green goop on her face and dress. Her face is turned away in shock and her hands are held up in some kind of horror.

Eadlyn tries to think of what could possibly be going on in this photo.

-o-

"Come on, Osten," America encourages, slowly moving a small spoonful of pea baby food to his mouth.

The little baby sits in his high chair. He looks at his mother with a curious awe but turns his head in disgust at the dark green baby food being placed in front of his mouth for his consumption. America puts down the spoon and small jar.

"You need to eat," America begs her baby. "I can't keep breastfeeding you."

Osten stares at his mom and makes little noises. America picks up the spoon and jar to try again. She holds the spoon out to Osten and the baby suddenly seems hypnotized. For a moment, America thinks he'll finally eat, until she notices Osten's gaze turn to something behind her and he smiles.

America puts down the food once more, this time, in frustration. She turns around and sees Maxon with his camera pointed at them.

"Maxon," America scolds as Osten begins clapping in the background.

"My dear," Maxon starts, lowering the camera from his eyes. "If you are having trouble feeding him, we can always ask his nanny."

"His nanny asked me to take over," America says, smiling a little as Maxon lightly kisses the top of Osten's head. "Osten simply refuses to eat. I thought I could do it since I'm his mother, I've fed our three other kids, and not to mention that I've fed my own younger siblings when they were infants."

"Allow me," Maxon says.

"By all means, go ahead."

America scoots her chair back a little to give her husband more room. Maxon leans over the highchair and picks up the baby food jar and spoon. Maxon gets a fresh spoonful and points it at Osten.

"You see this?" Maxon asks Osten, circling the spoon around the baby's eyes to get his attention. "Mommy loves eating this."

He holds the spoon in front of America's mouth. She immediately shakes her head. Maxon urges her to eat it and she lightly slaps his chest with the back of her hand.

"Well," Maxon says as America crosses her arms. "Daddy loves eating this."

Maxon tastes the baby food and his eyes widen in alarm. He gags and cringes before backing away. America snickers as she takes back the food. Maxon spits out what he tried into a napkin and shudder.

"That tasted awful," Maxon comments. "I can't blame him for not wanting any."

"Oh stop," America responds as she decides to try again with Osten.

As America holds the spoon out for Osten this time, she waits in anticipation. When Osten opens his mouth and eats, America sighs in relief.

"Maybe he just needed dinner with a show," America jokes about Maxon's reaction to the baby food.

Maxon grins lovingly at his wife.

In the timespan of a second, Osten spits out what food was in his mouth. It hits America and she turns away in shock as the green food splatters on her face and dress. Osten shrieks in laughter as Maxon quickly snaps a photo.

* * *

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	10. Photo 10: Fine with Age

**All of the ideas you all have given me are so cute and I willing definiely be writing them soon.**

* * *

Photo #10: Fine with Age

Eadlyn looks at another photo. From a first glance, she can't tell it's recent or not due to the fact that it's a photo of her father with his reading glasses. His eyebrows are furrowed, making the lines on his face more visible (which leads her to believe the photo was taken recently).

Eadlyn traces the lines on her father's face with her pointer finger, wondering why her father would have a picture of himself on his wall with a face like that.

-o-

After many hours of sitting at his desk, Maxon stands up and walks around his desk to stretch his stiff limbs. Paperwork often made his body still and it was unfortunate that he always had a lot to do. When Maxon returns to sitting, he slips on his reading glasses and looks back at his papers.

He stops reading when he hears knocking at the door of his office. Maxon allows them in and America walks in with his camera hanging around her neck.

"I've been trying to get some pictures of the kids but they always turn out blurry," America says. "Come out for a bit and take some."

Maxon takes a breath, leaning back into his desk chair. America smiles a little, taking a seat on a corner of his desk that wasn't filled with stacks of paper. She leans forward and takes a closer look at her royal husbandness in his glasses.

"I like these on you," America compliments his glasses, tracing the edges of the lenses. "They make you look smarter."

Maxon laughs a little. "I don't like them. They make me feel old. I used to be able to get through all this work with no issues, but now I find it hard to focus on words without my eyes getting tired."

"How about wise?" America suggests, ignoring her husband's possible mid-life crisis. "King Maxon, the Wise."

America smiles brightly in hopes to cheer him up. Maxon sighs as he moves his glasses to the top of his head and puts his head down on America's knees. She runs her fingers through his slowly-greying hair. When Maxon looks up at her, America slides his glasses back down to the bridge of his nose. Maxon frowns at her and she snaps a photo.

"America!" Maxon exclaims. "Delete that!"

"No!" America argues, giggling like a child. "You are my king and I will love you no matter how old you look. Besides, they say that things get finer with age."

"They say that about cheese, wine, and works of art; not people!"

America giggles. "That's only because they have yet to see King Maxon, The Wise, in his best years."

She gives him a small kiss on the forehead and she sashays out of his office to return to their kids. Maxon glances at his paperwork and allows it to get blurry as he removes his glasses. He gets up from his desk chair and stretches before exiting his office to take pictures of his lovely family.

* * *

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	11. Photo 11: The Sleeping Schreaves

**I'm going to be saying this a lot, but I love this chapter.**

* * *

Photo #11: The Sleeping Schreaves

The next picture that catches Eadlyn's eye makes her smile a little.

Her mother is sleeping on one end of the bed and her father on the other. Both of them are on the very edge, about to fall off because of the four kids sandwiched in the middle. Eadlyn and Ahren look to be about twelve; Eadlyn hugging her dad and Ahren doing the same with his mom. Kaden is sprawled on his stomach in the middle of the twins with a pillow covering half his head. Lastly, Osten lies horizontally at the foot of the bed, curled up in a ball.

Eadlyn has a vague memory of that occasion. All she remembers is a storm.

-o-

At the palace, it's a peaceful morning after what seemed to be the worst storm to face Angeles in ages. Thunder drummed the sky with strikes of lightning and heavy rain pattering against the windows.

Marlee scurries through the palace with an important envelope in her hand that must be seen by Maxon right away. She stops at the door, hesitant on knocking since it was still very early in the morning. Then she remembers the urgency of the envelope's content. Marlee takes a sharp breath and holds he fist up to knock, but stops herself again.

"I wouldn't bother them," Carter says, approaching his wife.

"That thought never occurred to me," Marlee replies sarcastically.

"Last night's storm was brutal, Marlee. It broke half the trees in the courtyard and some of the window panels. I don't think anyone got any sleep. You and I didn't."

"This envelope didn't."

Marlee lightly hits Carter's forehead with the envelope as she frowns at him. Carter smiles his adorable crooked smile. Marlee grins as she finally knocks on the door. When there's no response, Marlee quietly turns the doorknob and welcomes herself in.

"Marlee!" Carter whispers-screams. "You can't just let yourself in."

Marlee doesn't hear her husband as she looks in the bedroom. On the bed, she sees all the Schreaves sleeping with each other. The storm most likely scared the kids into sandwiching themselves in the middle of their parents. Marlee lights up at the sight of them.

"Carter," Marlee coos, changing her view from the slumbered royals to her husband at the door. "Look how cute they are."

"All the more reason to let them sleep," Carter responds hurriedly, frequently checking the halls in case anyone approaches. "Just put the envelope on his dresser and let's go."

Marlee tiptoes across the hardwood floor, blessed that it isn't creaking at every step. She approaches Maxon's dresser and writes the word, 'URGENT' across the envelope in giant, red, capital letters. She adds her signature in fancy cursive, just so Maxon would know who broke into his bedroom without panicking.

Marlee spots Maxon's camera on the corner of his dresser. She picks it up and points it at Carter just to watch him squirm. Marlee contains her laughter as she takes a picture of the Sleeping Schreaves. She couldn't resist taking a photo of how calm they seemed after the horrors of the storm. Marlee places the camera back in its spot, she picks up the pen and writes underneath her signature on the envelope,

'Make sure to check your camera'.

With a little happy face.

* * *

 **I know I would usually say that I'm Carter, but I think I would be Marlee this time.**

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	12. Photo 12: Rain, Rain, Don't Go Away

**I had no inspiration to write this, but then there was a thunderstorm so I got inspired. I kind of wrote something like this for another one of my fics, even with the same chapter title because I love it so much.**

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Photo #12: Rain, Rain, Don't Go Away

Eadlyn knew that going into a Selection of her own would be challenging since the one prior to hers resulted into an actual fairytale romance. Her parents were an ongoing flame of true passion, even after the many years of marriage and their four kids. They had little habits that stuck around during their marriage: the ear tugging, the pet names, and their dances. Every single time there was a rain storm, they always found time to dance.

The next photo Eadlyn sees of kind of dark because of the storm clouds above, but it only makes the picture more aesthetically pleasing. It was taken from a window, and Eadlyn sees two silhouettes (which she knows are her parents) dancing on the balcony, with rain pouring above them. Her father stands tall with his arms stretch out, holding her mother's hands in his as she bends back, trusting him to hold her up.

Eadlyn can't see this in the photo, but she knows they're both smiling.

-o-

Maxon charges through the palace halls with the sound of nearby thunder rumbling in the sky. He follows the sound of laughter coming from the Women's Room and pauses right in front of the door. Maxon takes a deep breath before knocking and opening the door just a crack. He peeks his head inside and sees America chatting with other ladies of the palace.

"Pardon me, Ladies," Maxon says with a little bow of the head. "May I take my Queen from you?"

"Why?" America asks with a playful grin on her face. She is very well-aware of the rain outside.

Maxon stretches an arm out towards America and the other ladies gasp. America puts down her teacup and saucer on a tray and faces her husband with her hands on her hips.

"I am here to escort you to a dance," Maxon says to her. "The rain is just impeccable."

America opens her mouth to answer and the sound of thunder fills the room with a couple flashes of lightning.

"The music and lighting are perfect tonight," Maxon adds.

"I shall," America accepts his dance proposal.

America laughs a little to herself as she takes Maxon's hand. He escorts her down the hall and opens the balcony doors for her. America steps out onto the balcony and closes her eyes as the rain hits her face and begins dampening her dress. She turns around and sees Maxon offering his hand again. She accepts and he wraps his other arm around her waist.

"You look beautiful," Maxon tells her as they sway back and forth. "I love your raccoon-like makeup."

America grins as she wipes her running mascara. Maxon looks down at her with a bright smile.

"Raccoon eyes are a new trend," America tells him.

"Oh lord," Maxon huffs. "I'll never understand fashion."

America bursts out laughing as Maxon spins her. He stretches her out before twirling her back into his arms.

Meanwhile, Carter and Marlee walk around the palace. She fidgets with Maxon's camera in her hands, figuring out what all the different buttons do. Maxon usually doesn't like when other people touch or play around with his camera, but Marlee is one of the few exceptions. The two of them pass the balcony and Marlee gasps when she sees America and Maxon dancing in the rain. She doesn't hesitate to snap their photo mid-dance.

"Why don't we do anything romantic like that?" Carter asks her with his crooked smile on his face.

Marlee grins and lightly nudges him.

* * *

 **Marlee is totally the Captain of the Maxon/America ship**

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	13. Photo 13: Fit For a Queen

**This chapter title took the longest to come up with, but the moment it got in my head, I was like, "YES!"**

* * *

Photo #13: Fit For a Queen

Eadlyn knew that her paternal grandparents were murdered on the day her father was supposed to announce his Selected. While the country grieved the loss of their beloved King and Queen, her father kept it secret that he picked her mother as his fiancée. Once their mourning subsided, it would be announced who was chosen to be the next Queen of Illéa.

Eadlyn smiles at how young her mother looks in the next picture. It must be the youngest she's seem her mother in these photos to date. She stands on a small pedestal with her arms opened out as many maids surround her. Some are holding measuring tape and others with swatches of different fabrics.

-o-

"Arms open, your Highness," a maid orders.

America follows as she opens her arms and a maid stretches out some measuring tape and records the numbers. Another does the same for her torso, bust, shoulders, waist, and legs.

In a few days, it will be announced that America Singer is the Selected for Prince Maxon Schreave and the future Queen of Illéa. As of right now, she is getting measured for a royal gown that she will wear for a photoshoot that will be displayed on The Report and the newspapers.

"I say we go with a light pink," a maid suggests, putting a fabric swatch of light pink against America's arm.

"How about white?" Another offers.

"White is for a wedding," a different maid scoffs. "She's not the bride just yet."

"My Lady likes wearing blue," Lucy chimes in.

America mouths her a thanks as she feels her posture being forced straight and her hair being pulled back. Her chin gets pushed up just a bit.

"She wears blue so often," one says to counteract Lucy. "We need to pick another to show her journey from Selected to Queen."

As the maids continue to debate on which color to make the dress, there's a knock on the door. They all turn and bow when Maxon steps in. Maxon smiles and greets them as he takes a few steps in. He approaches America and looks up at her on the pedastal and it reminds him of how his father would look at his mother as if she was on a pedestal of her own.

"Purple," Maxon states.

"Purple?" America questions as the maids murmur around her.

"A dark purple. It represents royalty and it was a color my mother was fond of. I know the country needs a little remembrance of my mother before we announce the new Queen."

The maids agree amongst themselves, finding the color appropriate for the occasion and continue working on America. She gives Maxon an endearing smile as he kisses her hand. She bends down to kiss the top of his head. Before he exits the room, he quickly snaps a photo of his future queen, anticipating the days until the future becomes the present.

* * *

 **Dark purple is my favorite color.**

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	14. Photo 14: Kaden's Strike

**I've been to many bowling parties and I don't mean to brag, but it's one sport I'm not terrible in. I'm way better at in on the Wii.**

* * *

Photo #14: Kaden's Strike

The only thing Eadlyn despises about the next photo is that it involves bowling.

She hated every moment of it. Everything from the smelly rental shoes to the germ-filled bowling balls to the greasy food and the polluted bathroom made her miserable on Kaden's birthday when they rented a whole bowling alley.

However, she loved the excitement everyone had on that day. It was a moment where they didn't have to be royal. There weren't any meetings to attend or anyone to impress - they were just themselves. She loved the laughs they shared and the smiles everyone wore.

The photo she sees is a side-profile of her mother with her hands on Kaden's shoulders. Kaden stands in front of a bowling lane with a ball in his hands, looking out towards the pins. Her mother has her hands on Kaden's shoulders and is leaning forwards with her head beside Kaden's, whispering in his ear.

-o-

"Oh, come on Eadlyn!" Ahren exclaims as his twin's ball rolls down the gutter.

Eadlyn rolls her eyes as she drags her feet in the disgusting rental shoes. She sits beside her parents at a table, on Ahren's jacket, and swipes the table with her hand before resting her head on her elbow. Her parents sit across from her sharing a plate of chilli fries and a soda.

"Lighten up, love," Maxon encourages. "It's your brother's birthday."

"I hate bowling," Eadlyn grumbles.

"And you're bad at it," Kile pipes from across the room. "But hey, that's good for us."

Eadlyn rolls her eyes.

For Kaden's birthday, his parents rented out an entire bowling alley. They all decided to play a game of The Schreaves vs. The Woodworks (with the additions of Aspen and Lucy so the teams would be even). The losing team would get their slices of birthday cake last, with the exception of Kaden, of course. The Woodworks were winning by a landslide mostly because of Eadlyn's inability to knock down the pins. America and Maxon only cared about their kids having fun so they didn't care about being losers, but their sons disagreed.

"C'mon, Kaden," Ahren pleads. "We need this strike to help us."

"Yeah, I want cake," Osten adds.

The two of them glare at Eadlyn who couldn't care less. America rubs her daughter's shoulders in a comforting way.

"Boys," America says to them. "Play nice."

"But I want cake," Osten argues.

Maxon laughs to himself as him and America get up to approach their boys. Maxon pulls Ahren and Osten to the side leaving America with Kaden. America stands behind Kaden and puts her hands on his shoulders. She leans down and quickly kisses her son on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday," America whispers to her son. "I believe you can get the strike, but it doesn't really matter. You're the birthday boy and you get your slice of cake first. Eadlyn can get her piece last."

Kaden smiles which makes his mother smile. Maxon quickly snaps the picture from the sideline, even though him and his other sons didn't hear what America said to Kaden. America lightly claps her son's shoulders as she stands beside Maxon.

Kaden holds the bowling ball in his hands. He looks at the ten pins at the other end and takes a breath to calm his nerves. Kaden winds back and throws the ball forwards. He anxiously brings his hands to his mouth as he watches the ball travel down the lane. His family does the same. When the ball knocks down all ten pins, Kaden cheers as he jumps into his dad's arms. America gives her son another kiss as the two other brothers jump for joy. Even from her seat at the table, Eadlyn cracks a smile.

* * *

 **Eadlyn is literally me at social gatherings and Osten is me in any situation.**

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	15. Photo 15: Rise

**Hate me all you want, but I happen to like the song Rise. I'm talking about the McClain Sisters one in this case, but I also like the Katy Perry one.**

* * *

Photo #15: Rise

When Eadlyn and Ahren were still sleeping in cribs, they shared a room. Eadlyn was told that putting young babies in the same room during the night was a terrible idea because if one cried, the other would start. The thing about Eadlyn and Ahren was that they would cry when separated.

Thinking about that now in her current situation makes Eadlyn tear up a little. Her brother has left her and now she is alone to deal with this. Even if she cried, Ahren wouldn't be coming back.

The next photo is her mother standing in the middle of the two cribs sometime during the night. She is hunched over, looking into both of them with her mouth open, as if she was talking to the babies. No, Eadlyn realizes that her mother isn't talking to them, but singing.

-o-

America and Maxon are awoken in the middle of the night by a baby cry. In only a matter of seconds, a second cry rings in their ears. America hears Maxon lift his sheets but she puts a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"I'll do it," America says, sitting up in their bed. "You've had a long day."

"America - "

Maxon tries to argue, but America whacks him with a pillow. She snickers a little as she gets up and exits their bedroom. She walks down the hall, declining any help from the maids and butlers who pass by. America slowly opens the door to her twins' room and leaves it ajar as she rushes over to her twins.

"Shh..." America whispers, rubbing each of their tummies. "It's okay, it's okay, Mama's here."

America quickly checks if any of her twins need a changing or a feeding, but neither of them do. They probably just needed some love. America smiles a little as she ruffles both Eadlyn and Ahren's hair. The twins both stop crying when they see their mother, but she needed for them to go back to sleep.

That's when America decides to sing.

"Dry those tears from your eyes," she begins to sing softly. "And everything will be alright. You know the rainbow's just in sight. Dust your wings off as you rise."

Down the hall, Maxon rubs his eyes as he walks over to the room of his kids. America told him to sleep, but he couldn't knowing his kids were in distress. He sees his camera sitting on a nearby table. He picks it up to return it but continues his walk. He sees the door slightly open but hears a beautiful tune flowing out. Maxon slowly opens it and sees America leaning down in the middle of both cribs, with an arm in each.

"If your heart feels overwhelmed," America continues to sing as the babies start to fall back asleep. "Just know you're never by yourself. Put your hand in mine, hold your head up high and together we'll rise."

Maxon feels his heart melting and takes this opportunity to capture the moment in a snapshot, without flash, of course.

* * *

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	16. Photo 16: En Garde!

**I just have two or three more of my own chapters, and then I will get to the ideas submitted to me.**

* * *

Photo #16: En Garde!

Kaden was the little brother who could literally do anything. If anything, he could be the next King of Illéa. He was perfectly qualified in every way - he was exceptionally smart in the books and the brawn (for someone of his young age).

Eadlyn once thought that Kaden would also make the perfect guard.

The next picture shows Kaden holding up a sword he made with, probably Josie's, arts and crafts. He stands parallel to Aspen, who holds a broomstick and their mother, who holds a feather duster with the handle pointed out. All three of them stand against each other, with their items pointed at each other - as if they were fencing.

-o-

"Aspen! Aspen!" Kaden calls, running to approach the guard.

Thinking there's trouble, Aspen immediately sprints to Kaden, only to see the child as calm as a cloud.

"What is it?" Aspen huffs.

"I made a sword," Kaden says. "Look at it!"

Aspen looks down at the small, cardboard, cylindrical toy painted silver with a red handle. Kaden beams with pride at his craft. Aspen opens his mouth in surprise, deeply touched that the little boy made a fake weapon and wanted to show him.

"That is amazing, Kaden!" Aspen exclaims, holding the fake sword in his hands. "Maybe if we had this a decade ago, the rebel attacks would've ended sooner."

Kaden smiles a toothy smile, taking back his fake weapon. He then holds the sword out towards Aspen, pointing it at him as if he was a rebel.

"En garde!" Kaden exclaims.

Not wanting to drop the kids energetic spirit by declining the fight or mentioning that the guards' weaponry has further evolved from swords to guns, Aspen spots Lucy down the hall with her maid cart and gets an idea.

"Lucy," Aspen says. "May I take your broomstick?"

"Sure...?" Lucy replies, not further asking for a reason.

Aspen takes the broomstick from the maids cart and smiles when he hears Kaden cheering.

"En garde!" Aspen exclaims.

The two begin their play-swords fight. Kaden uses all his strength and energy for every strike whereas Aspen only looked like he was (to give the boy more amusement).

Lucy watches from the side, refolding towels on her cart. A small, sad smile crawls onto her face as she watches the two of them. It's a warm imagination as she pictures Aspen doing that with their own son.

"What on Earth are they doing?" America asks, looking at the two boys.

"Sparring," Lucy guesses.

"Mommy, join us!" Kaden exclaims.

America hesitates. Lucy happily hands her a feather duster (which is debatably the next best option from the maid cart). America accepts and prances over to the two boys. She holds out the handle, just like a sword.

"En garde!" America says.

A three-way battle between cardboard, a broom, and a feather duster commences. Lucy giggles a little, especially since the cardboard is winning - on purpose.

"Lucy," Maxon calls, approaching her. She bows her head for respect. He looks over at the scene and then back at the maid. "What is going on?"

"Would you like a weapon?" Lucy asks, opening her arms to her maid cart.

Maxon grins as he passes. Instead, he holds his camera up to his eye and snaps a photo of America, Aspen, and Kaden. They kind of reminded him of The Three Musketeers.

* * *

 **I really wanted more of Kaden in the series.**

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	17. Photo 17: T-Shirt

**I'm not going to lie, the soundtrack for _The Fault in Our Stars_ is amazing and I listen to it whenever I can. This OS was inspired by the song T-Shirt by Birdy.**

 **Warning: I didn't intend for this chapter to be kind of kinky by the end, but don't worry.**

* * *

Photo #17: T-Shirt

Eadlyn looks at the next photo and sees her young mother with her arms wrapped around herself with the brightest smile on her face. Eadlyn mimics the smile for a bit before studying the image more.

Her mother is wearing a baggy navy blue t-shirt that looks to be a couple sizes too big as it hides her features and drapes over her thighs.

Eadlyn doesn't know why her mother would ever be wearing such a garment, but she knows that her mother is one of the most beloved queens Illéa's ever had because she could be casual, yet professional at the same time.

-o-

"I hate my pajamas," America says, rummaging through her dresser drawers. "It's all silk! Silk dresses, silk tops, silk bottoms, all silk!"

At every mention of an article of clothing, America threw a couple over her shoulders. She turns around and sees Maxon sitting on their bed, covered in everything silk.

"And then there's lace! And satin!"

More clothes are thrown on Maxon. America puts her hands on her hips and huffs in frustration as she looks at her empty dresser. She turns around and sees her royal husbandness covered in all her sleeping garments.

"Frankly, I have no complaints," Maxon says, gazing at all the pajamas on his lap.

America tries not to grin. "I want something comfortable to sleep in. I mean, silk pajamas on silk sheets - I would slip right out of the bed."

"Well, love," Maxon says, pushing all the clothes off his body. The silk ones fall right to the floor. "I will hug you for the whole night to guarantee that you won't fall out."

America smiles at the thought of that. Then an idea approaches her mind.

"What could be more comfortable than my arms?" Maxon asks.

"Back home in Carolina, whenever Kenna and James would visit, she would use James' old t-shirts as pajamas. They're cotton and they're comfy - I want some."

Maxon cringes at the thought of baggy t-shirts as pajamas, but to please his dear, he would get her some. He approached the tailor and requested the odd fashion choice. Just like when Maxon requested jeans for America years back, the tailor was questionable about her clothing choices, but nevertheless, the order was completed.

He approaches America with a variety of oversized-cotten t-shirts perfect for sleeping in. Her eyes open wide as she gives Maxon a quick kiss on the cheek as a thanks for the deed. She quickly strips what she was wearing and puts on the t-shirt on top of the pile. She flattens out the dark navy top which is from one of Illéa's universities.

All the shirts vary from concerts, tourist souvenirs, media, etc. All of them bring a bright smile to America's face.

"I love this," America says. "I love them all."

America hugs herself in her soft t-shirt, making her red locks swing around with her shoulders. Maxon grins, especially since his dear is happy. He quickly makes his way to his dresser and snaps a picture of America in her baggy pajama tops.

"Maxon, you'll learn to love it," America says. "Sure, it hides my features, but not all of them."

America spins around in her baggy top and it flies around her. Maxon realizes that since the baggy top is almost like a dress since it stops mid-thigh, fans out, and she doesn't need to wear pants or shorts underneath (nor did she bother to). His eyes open wide.

"I could learn to love it," Maxon comments.

* * *

 **I'm not going to lie (again), but baggy t-shirts are my pajamas. Although I wear booty shorts underneath.**

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	18. Photo 18: A Baby's Warmth

**This idea came from rianne . vdw (sorry your username is typed that way, but the document wouldn't let me save it) ****and it made me realize that I wrote all the Schreave's children's births except for Kaden's.**

* * *

Photo #18: A Baby's Warmth

Eadlyn knows that Kaden was one of the quiet kids around the palace. He never bothered her nor irritated her to the point where she wanted to rip out all her hair. In fact, he was like that towards everyone. Ever since Kaden was born, he was a beacon of relaxation for almost everyone in the palace.

Eadlyn looks at the next picture and it shows her and Ahren years back, holding baby Kaden. She was the one holding the swaddles and Ahren looked over her shoulder from her side, peeking into the swaddle.

Eadlyn wraps her arms around herself, craving the warmth she had at that moment to rid her from the chills going up and down her body.

-o-

Eadlyn and Ahren are escorted into a room in the hospital wing of the castle by a nurse after sitting outside for almost two hours. The twins walk as if they're on eggshells as they enter the room, not wanting to make a single sound. They see their mother sleeping on her hospital bed and their father standing beside her, rocking from side-to-side with their new baby brother in his arms.

"I thought babies cried when they were born," Ahren says.

"Don't give Kaden any ideas," Maxon says, giving a mock frown to his eldest son. Ahren grins.

"Is that his name?" Eadlyn asks.

"Yes, love." Maxon smiles brightly at his newborn son. "I hope this one's quiet because you two weren't, Kile wasn't, and neither is Josie."

Eadlyn and Ahren look up at the father who gives them a small smile. Maxon leans down to give the twins a better look at baby Kaden. He was a little pudgy baby, who shockingly wasn't asleep, but nestling in his swaddles - as if he's trying to get more comfortable in the already-soft cotton sheets.

"You can hold him," Maxon says, gently giving the baby to Eadlyn. "I want to take a picture for your mother."

Eadlyn holds Kaden, scared that he might cry from the change of arms, but the baby remains quiet. Ahren peeks over and Eadlyn slowly turns her body so Ahren can get a better view of the baby. Ahren carefully lifts back a corner of the swaddle and baby Kaden gives a soft smile.

"Daddy, he's smiling!" Eadlyn exclaims softly.

Seeing the newborn baby's smile makes Eadlyn feel warm and comforted. The little baby isn't aware of who she is, yet it still trusts her and feels protected in her arms. Eadlyn and Ahren mimic the smile in return as Maxon snaps a photo of his three kids.

"My turn to hold him," Ahren says.

"Careful," Maxon says as he heads over to his twins and helps them pass the baby. "You need to support the head since the baby cannot do that on it's own just yet."

From her bed, America wakes up and hears her family with the baby. She keeps her eyes closed, but smiles to herself, enjoying the sounds.

* * *

 **Damn, I have a lot of Kaden chapters. I have one for Ahren that will be out soon and I just thought of another one.**

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	19. Photo 19: Winter Wonderland

**This idea came from Bernice and for some odd reason, it was hard to write.**

* * *

Photo #19: Winter Wonderland

Christmas was always a fun time at the palace. The whole castle would be decorated from top to bottom with sparkling decor that would scream the holidays. There was even a ten-foot-tall Christmas tree at the bottom of the staircase. Then it would end with a celebratory ball where royals from overseas would fly in to celebrate the holiday.

Illéa's royal families always threw the best parties.

Eadlyn swipes the dust off the next photo on the wall - guessing it must be old from a long period of time. It shows her parents in a slow dance. Her mother's head is down, with a small smile as she looks at her tiny baby bump. Her father is looking down at her mother, who shines with a pregnancy glow.

-o-

From across the crowded ballroom, Maxon puts his empty wine glass down on a waiter's tray. He sidesteps past other guests, excusing himself along the way. He stops when he approaches his wife.

America beams at him. Her red curls sit calmly on her bare shoulders making her blue eyes pop. Her dress was sleeveless, with a solid white top. The skirt of the dress went down to the floor. It was made with a lace pattern and a little sparkle, resembling fresh snow being hit by sunlight.

She was about four months pregnant, so the little baby bump was just starting to peek out.

"Are you tired, my dear?" Maxon asks her.

"Not yet, why?" America replies.

"Would you care to dance with me again?"

Maxon holds his hand out to her. America smiles as she graciously accepts. He leads her through the ballroom, onto the dance floor, where they take each other into their arms where they begin to sway from side to side like a waltz. They dance slower than usual since the little baby bump is also joining them.

"Will you ever get tired of dancing with me?" Maxon asks her softly.

"Never," America replies without even the slightest hesitation. "I'll be dancing with you even when my hair is as white as snow."

Maxon kisses the top of her head. America looks down at her small baby bump and Maxon looks down at her.

Off to the side, Marlee walks around with Maxon's camera in her hands. When she sees the royal couple, she gasps in adoration and quickly snaps a photo. If there was one thing she loves, it's Maxon and America as a couple. Marlee looks back at the photo and smiles proudly at herself for her beautiful photography.

"A beautiful sight..." Marlee sings to herself about them. "They're happy tonight...dancing in a winter wonderland..."

Beside her, Carter grins. He puts an arm around his joyful wife and sings along to her Christmas song, even if it has the wrong lyrics.

* * *

 **If I had a Maxon Schreave, I would love a Marlee Tames as well.**

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	20. Photo 20: Mother's Little Notary

**About the last chapter and who America was pregnant with, I'll let your imagination choose.**

* * *

Photo #20: Mother's Little Notary

Eadlyn knew that Ahren loved to write. He would usually write anything down - from his thoughts, his wishes, his ideas, and sometimes the invitations for an upcoming gala. He had a habit of writing anywhere in the palace, but ever since he devoted himself to writing love letters to his love (or now wife), Camille, he would confine himself in his room for hours just to write the perfect letter to her.

She wishes that Ahren was still in his room writing to Camille instead of being across the ocean married to the girl.

Eadlyn sighs as she looks at the next photo. It shows Ahren hunched over at his desk in his bedroom, writing on various sheets of paper. Their mother stands above him, with her hands folded at her chest, looking out ahead of her. Her mouth is opened, as if she's saying something.

-o-

 _'I have been dreaming about you, Camille. Most of my dreams involved your blonde hair flowing across your shoulders in the bright shining sun - although it's snowing in France this time of year, if I'm not mistaken.'_

Ahren smiles to himself as he feels his heart beating fast. He puts down his pen and stretches out his cramping hand. He leans back in his arms, legs, and back right before shaking his limbs.

"Ahren," America says, peeking through his door. "You're not busy, are you?"

"What is it, Mother?" Ahren asks.

"I need your help writing a speech for The Report." America enters his room. "Usually I just talk and write down what I say, but today my hand is too slow for my mind." She takes a breath. "I need you to write down what I say."

"Why not ask Eadlyn? She's going to be queen anyways."

"Eadlyn's penmanship looks like the scribbles Osten used to draw on the walls."

Ahren laughs a little. He pushes his letters to Camille to the side of his desk and puts a paperweight on top. He pulls out a fresh sheet of paper as his mother stands over his shoulder. Her eyes peer over to the letter, smiling at the little parts she read before Ahren rushed to cover it up with his hands.

"Mom!" Ahren exclaims, blushing uncontrollably.

"Don't be embarassed," America says, ruffling her son's hair. "Camille is a lucky girl to have a romantic like you."

Ahren doesn't respond. Instead he picks up a pen and gets ready to write his mother's speech. America takes a breath and shakes her head to clear and sort out her thoughts.

"Good Evening Illéa," America says. "King Maxon and I have decided to inform you about our next actions following the removal of the castes."

As America continues talking, she would walk around Ahren's room, using hand gestures when necessary. Ahren wrote in his beautiful cursive as fast as he could, sometimes cutting his mother off to propose suggestions that could improve her speech. America looks at her son proudly, taking his consructive criticism.

Maxon walks in the halls, hearing America's beautiful voice echoing. He takes a little peek inside Ahren's room, where the voice seemed to be coming from, and smirks at the sight. She delivers a speech from the top of her head and Ahren is her notary, writing everything down. Maxon takes a quick picture before walking off.

"Thank you, Illéa, for your time and attention," America finishes her speech. "I bid you all a good night."

America takes a breath and claps her hands together. Ahren finishes writing the last words of her speech and does the same actions as his mother.

"Thank you, Ahren," America says, kissing the top of her son's head. "I'll let you return to your letter."

Ahren grins as his mother exits his bedroom, closing the door behind her. He stretches his fingers before sliding his letter to Camille from the corner to the center of desk. He briefly stretches his fingers and reads what he has written down so far.

 _'When you respond, let me know if it is snowing or not because that will determine if I should visit. I'm not picky about the weather, but I do love a good snow day._

 _Write back soon._

 _With love,_

 _Ahren.'_

* * *

 **How do all of you feel about Camille? A lot of people online seem to dislike her, but I don't mind her. It's kind of like how I feel about Eikko. I have a chapter plannd with her in it.**

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	21. Photo 21: Bon Appetit

**I typed half of this chapter and then went to make food. Shockingly, I didn't burn the house down.**

* * *

Photo #21: Bon Appetit?

Eadlyn knows her mom is very a talented woman. She could sing and play many musical instruments that could make any crowd stand up in applause, chanting for an encore. The only thing her mother couldn't do, which the next photo shows, is cook. Sure, the photo showed a cute woman who looked like she could cook, but no. The one time her mother tried making pancakes, they ended up black and her mother tried to defend the fact that they weren't burnt.

As far as mothers go, Eadlyn knew her mother was the best there could ever be. Her mother is just that kind of woman which only makes Eadlyn's heart ache more than it already is.

-o-

"Maxon, stop pointing that camera in my face," America scolds, pushing the camera away. "I'm trying to cook."

Maxon laughs a little as he snaps a picture of his wife who was cooking pancakes for the family. He will admit that she looked adorable when covered in flour and trying not to be frustrated. Cooking wasn't exactly her forté, and he was completely okay with that. She wasn't.

"My dear, we have chefs who can cook for us," Maxon tries to say.

"Quiet," America orders.

Maxon immediately steps out of the kitchen to leave his wife alone with the cooking equipment and her pancake batter. He joins his hungry kids in the dining room and sits at the head of the table.

"Dad, I didn't know mom can cook," Eadlyn says.

Maxon takes a breath. "Neither did I."

The kids try not to be surprised at that sudden fact. Instead, they sit in silence, fidgiting with their cutlery. Maxon knew that when America was determined to do something, she will get it done. It was good that she was stubborn in that way.

About twenty minutes later, America prances out of the kitchen with two trays of pancakes in her hands. The kids are hyped up until she puts them down in the center and they all see stacks of brownish-black pancakes. The kids sink into their seats, suddenly losing their appetites.

"Bon appetit," America says happily.

Maxon encourages the kids to take at least one pancake to make their mother happy because he did. Eadlyn, Ahren, and Kaden all subtly shake their heads in fear. Osten stands on his chair to take a few pancakes before drowning them in a pool of syrup. Maxon tries to do the same and gives his kids another look, this time more forceful. They all succumb to the pressure of making their mother happy.

"Mommy, they're burnt," Kaden finally says, scraping some of the pancake with his fork. The noise and black ash produced isn't close to pleasant.

"They're not burnt," America argues. "They're just crispy."

"What kind of pancakes are there?" Ahren asks, poking through the stack with the serving fork. To him, they all look the same.

"Blueberry and chocolate chip," America replies.

"How can you tell?"

America hesitates as she looks at her pancakes. To her as well, they all look the same, but she won't admit such a thing.

"Just taste them and find out," America tells Ahren.

"They taste burnt!" Osten exclaims, with his mouth full of pancakes and syrup.

* * *

 **I love pancakes. I really do.**

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	22. Photo 22: No BoysGirls Allowed!

**Sorry for not updating this story yesterday. I was at a sleepover the previous night and got five hours of sleep. Then I didn't have a chapter ready.**

* * *

Photo #22: No Boys/Girls Allowed!

The next two photos were posted side-by-side, making Eadlyn think they happened during the same day about five years ago. As she gets a closer look, she sees one photo of Ahren, Kile, Kaden, and Osten in a small, wooded room. All the boys were lit up with amusement.

Eadlyn wonders where they were at the time since she remembers no room in the palace looking like that.

The photo next to it seems to have been taken from a higher point of view. It shows her mom with Miss. Marlee, Josie, Miss. Lucy, and herself all sitting on a picnic blanket. Like the boys, they seemed excited. Well, except for Eadlyn in the picture. She was grouching and her father blamed the sun for that (although that wasn't the reason).

That's when Eadlyn remembers the situation of the picture.

-o-

When Kile was thirteen, he designed a treehouse he wanted and Mr. Woodwork built it in an apple tree located in the middle of the garden. It took him a couple of weeks, but when it was finished, Kile took charge and leadership of his new territory.

Eadlyn stands at the bottom of the treehouse, squinting her eyes to block out the sun. She looks at the hand-written sign posted on the window that reads _'No Girls Allowed!'_ and frowns.

"This really isn't fair!" Eadlyn screams up, mostly towards Kile.

Kile peeks his head out the window and looks down at Eadlyn, choosing not to spit on her forehead.

"I don't really care!" Kile cackles back. "Go have fun with Josie!"

Eadlyn looks over to where Josie parked her picnic blanket in the middle of the sun. Marlee and her own mother sit alongside Josie, playing along with the fake tea set. Eadlyn grumbles to herself as she trudged through the grass towards them and takes a seat in the middle of Marlee and America. She doesn't like Josie, but she doesn't see any other options for her.

Eventually, the Legers show up, both with foods for their respectable groups. Lucy had a tray of delicate desserts for the ladies and Aspen walked towards the treehouse with bags of chips and cans of soda. Eadlyn frowns as he climbs up.

"Quit grouching, Eadlyn," America scolds, passing her a small cupcake to munch on. "Your face will become stuck like that."

"No, it won't," Eadlyn responds.

America rolls her eyes as Josie pours Lucy some "tea" from her toy teapot (which is actually lemon-flavored carbonated water).

"This is quite a nice setup," Lucy comments, beaming in the sunshine.

"See, Eadlyn," Josie says. "This is way better than whatever could be happening in that treehouse."

None of the adult ladies saw this, but Eadlyn narrows her eyes at the younger girl.

Meanwhile, up in the treehouse, Maxon puts down his camera after taking a quick photo of the ladies and their tea party. The only thing missing is a sign that reads, _'No Boys Allowed!'_. He hears Aspen making his way up the ladder. He tosses the chip bags and the soda cans he brought before hoisting himself up.

The young boys launch themselves towards the junk food as Aspen joins Maxon and Carter.

"Couldn't get us a beer?" Carter jokes, lightly slapping Aspen's shoulder.

"I wanna beer!" A young Osten pipes with a mouthful of chips, some falling out.

"No," Maxon says, getting a picture of the young boys amusing themselves. "You are already trouble when you're sober."

The men laugh their hearty laughs as they hear the women with their more high-pitched laughs from their situation from the ground.

* * *

 **I never had a treehouse but I still want one. I needed a sanctuary where I could get some alone time.**

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	23. Photo 23: Princess Josie

**In response to Anj0921, it was mentioned in _The Crown_ that America has tried to make them all pancakes but burnt them. That was my goal for that chapter. Still, thank you for your review.**

* * *

Photo #23: Princess Josie

After Josie stole Eadlyn's three favorite tiaras, she had them hidden in a shelf in her closet, just behind her casual dresses. Josie was always the one who would snoop around here and there for something sparkly that Eadlyn owned for her own pleasure of pretending to be a princess. Josie never meant to break them, but Eadlyn still kept them disclosed.

Eadlyn looks at the next photo on the wall. Her eyes sparkle just like the jewels on the tiara in the picture. In the photo, Josie stands in the middle of America and Marlee, wearing Eadlyn's favorite tiara. The two women look down at Josie, estactic at the young girl.

Eadlyn wasn't in the photo, but she remembers exactly what she was doing and it wasn't photo worthy.

-o-

"Josie!" A sixteen-year-old Eadlyn screams, running through the palace. "Give me back my tiara!"

Eadlyn chases Josie through the palace, running past maids and guards. Thankfully, it was a pants day for her so the run was easier. Josie holds the tiara she stole down on her head before skipping down the stairs. Eadlyn holds her breath, hoping the tiara wouldn't break. When she reaches the bottom, Eadlyn continues the foot-chase.

"Josie!" She screams again.

Josie continues running, ignoring her.

Up ahead, Eadlyn sees her parents along with Josie's. She looks at which direction Josie is running and in her own favor, Josie will be passing their parents.

"Mr. Woodwork, stop her!" Eadlyn calls out.

Carter sees his daughter running in his direction and stands in a wrestler's ready stance. Josie tries to run past him, but Carter reaches out to his side and swoops Josie up in the air. Eadlyn jobs cautiously, worrying that her tiara will fall out of Josie's head and onto the ground, but luckily the tiara remains sitting on Josie's blonde locks. Carter slowly puts Josie on her two feet again as Eadlyn approaches them, catching her breath and holding her slightly-cramping sides.

"Thank you," Eadlyn says to him. "Now, Josie - "

"Josie!" Marlee exclaims at her daughter. Eadlyn thinks that Josie will be scolded for stealing her tiaras, but thinks otherwise when Marlee begins smiling. "You look beautiful!"

Eadlyn's jaw drops as Marlee fixes Josie's hair from all the running. Josie smiles and ruffles her skirt. America helps Josie make herself look better in Eadlyn's tiara. Eadlyn crosses her arms, leaving herself a sweating and panting mess. She hated that Josie could just get away with schemes like this or worse, get praised for it.

"You look just like a princess!" America exclaims.

Josie flashes a smile which Maxon snaps a picture of. What he fails to capture (and what everyone fails to notice) is Eadlyn rolling her eyes and taking a sharp breath. All four parents dote around Josie as Eadlyn stands behind them, now crossing her arms. All she wants is her tiara back in her room and on a shelf high enough and well-hidden to keep a Josie Woodwork away.

* * *

 **Guys, I am heading back to school tomorrow so my updates will be slower from this point on. I still have chapters planned and will post when I can, but I seriously have to get my shit together. Feel free to still leave me some ideas and I will write them when I get the time, I promise.**

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	24. Photo 24: Pass the Salt

**Not going to lie, on my phone I have a list of all the chapters for this story and the upcoming ones usually have a little synopsis to it. This one didn't. All it said was, "goddammit, I need more Osten" which is true. I don't think the series had enough of Eadlyn's siblings.**

* * *

Photo #24: Pass the Salt

Whenever someone would look at Osten, he always had the same expression on his face - the 'evil genius brainstorming his next devilish scheme' face. Even in his sleep, he most likely dreamt of a new way to cause trouble around the palace in order to amuse himself. His face would always look like that, but his tricks never crossed the line (the only things that would be crossed were the arms of his parents when they would scold him).

The next photo shows Osten in the kitchen, standing on a step stool and stretching up to reach the cupboards. Eadlyn scrunches her eyebrows, wondering what scheme took place during this picture.

-o-

Dinner was fast approaching and the chefs of the palace were hard at work making dinner for its inhabitants and staff. Chefs and their sous-chefs were scurrying around the kitchen, making sure that every bite of the royal family's dinner is perfect. Their eyes were so focused on the food and its condition, that they failed to notice a little Osten Schreave standing on a step stool, messing around with the kitchen's knick-knacks.

When he finishes his mess, he cleans it up, only to make it seem as if he was never there. Osten jumps down from step stool and pushes it underneath the counter. A chef holding a tray of salt shakers whooshes past him, barely touching him with the lightest touch. Osten pauses and smiles to himself, before making his exit.

The moment Osten leaves the kitchen, he sees his father leaning against the wall, staring him down. Osten looks up at his dad, batting innocent eyes, but that doesn't change his dad's expression.

"Osten, what were you doing in there?" Maxon asks, like a detective interrogating his criminal.

Osten looks back at the kitchen before his father. Maxon raises an eyebrow and Osten swallows nervously when he sees the camera around his father's neck, thinking his dad caught a snapshot of his scheme.

"Nothing..." Osten responds.

Maxon eyes his son suspiciously. "Were you peeking at tonight's dessert?"

Osten gives his dad a small smile, thinking that he should've done that while in there. Now he's curious on what sugary dessert will end his day and give him new ideas for trouble in his dreams. Maxon chuckles to himself and puts a hand on Osten's shoulder.

"Go wash up for dinner," Maxon tells him. "And be sure to wash your hands of the dirty crime you may or many not have committed."

Minutes after, dinner is served to the royal family. Maxon, America, and their four kids begin eating their plates of filet mignon, roasted potatos, and a mixed asparagus salad. They all eat in silence, until Kaden pipes up but not to start a casual and friendly conversation.

"Eady, can you pass the salt, please?" Kaden asks. Without words, Eadlyn slides over the salt shaker to Kaden. "Thank you."

Eadlyn gives a small smile as she goes back to her dinner. Kaden sprinkles a little salt over his potatoes before taking a little bite. America notice her son's sudden shocked expression as he coughs a little. Ahren repeatedly pats Kaden's back as he takes takes a sip of water.

"Kaden, what is it?" America asks him, showing concern.

"Mom, are these sweet potatoes?" Kaden asks.

America takes another bite out of her dinner to verify her answer. She savors the potatoes and the rest of the family does the same.

"They're not," America tells Kaden. Everyone else agrees.

"But mine are sweet," Kaden says.

Ahren takes a bit of Kaden's potatos to taste them. He puckers his mouth at the sudden punch of sweetness tickling his tastebuds. Eadlyn reaches for the salt shaker. She shakes a small sample of the salt on her spoon and tastes a little of it with her tongue. She backs away from her spoon, blinking a few times.

"This is sugar," Eadlyn says. "Why is ther sugar in the salt shaker?"

Maxon immediately looks over at Osten. He narrows his eyes at his son and Osten laughs a little to himself. Osten catches his dad's glare, stops laughing, and shoves some vegetables in his mouth.

"No dessert for you, young man," Maxon tells him.

"But dad!" Osten exclaims.

* * *

 **So this prank was nothing, but it's still very cute. I'm totally down for writing more pranks if you leave me some in the reviews.**

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	25. Photo 25: The Lady and Her Tramp

**Fun fact: I'm half Italian but have never visited nor speak Italian.**

 **Oh yeah, and there is a new cover for this story. I made it with my bad photoshopping skills.**

* * *

Photo #25: The Lady and Her Tramp

Eadlyn grew up with many different movies. Most of the movies the palace's cinema had consisted of sappy romances which didn't please her at all (especially when the romance was over-played and cliché). Now that she's in the middle of her own Selection, she's supposed to - or expected to - find a story similar to any love story out there, but more importantly, similar to her parents. With that pressure riding on one shoulder and her mother's current state on the other, she finds it hard to concentrate without her mind entering a whirlwind of emotions.

She looks at the next photo which causes the corner of her mouth to rise a little. Her parents are young and playing with one of the most over-used romantic gestures. The photo takes place in Italy. Her parents sit across from each other at a small, circular dining table right at the bottom of The Leaning Tower of Pisa. On their table was a satin red table cloth with a basket of sliced baguettes, a plate of spaghetti, and a small candle set. Her parents share the plate of spaghetti, specifically a certain noodle. One end is in her mother's mouth and the other is in her father's.

Eadlyn realizes that her parents aren't doing that for the cameras or even for each other, but for fun. They love each other so much that they can be immature without worrying about their public image (in fact, that got the public to like them more).

The photo was cut out of a newspaper with the headline, 'The Lady and Her Tramp'. Eadlyn knows her father isn't anywhere near the dictionary definition of a tramp, but she understands the angle the newspaper was playing at.

-o-

King Maxon and Queen America were visiting Italy to discuss the import and export relationship between the two countries. Lucky for them, Italy was already an important ally to Illéa and Queen Nicoletta was rather fond of America during Maxon's Selection. The two women have kept in touch ever since and when time came for this meeting, Nicoletta opened her palace doors for the royal couple. Although Nicoletta's kitchen staff was already the best of Italy, Maxon and America requested one night out in the town. Nicoletta couldn't refuse their request, so she made the arrangements herself.

"Italy is so beautiful," America comments from their dinner table.

Maxon smiles as he hears his wife sigh heavily out of pleasure. A light breeze from their outdoor table brushes against them, making the night a tad more chilly, but still bearable.

"And the food is amazing," America adds, beaming at the pasta and bread set before her. "We need to get our chef to make our food like this."

"Whatever you want, my dear," Maxon says.

America takes a deep breath. "You know what this reminds me of?"

"What?"

"A movie I watched this one time as a kid. It had these two dogs - a boy and a girl - and I remember them eating spaghetti."

Maxon laughs. "Dogs eat spaghetti?"

America holds back a smile, realizing how ridiculous that sounds. She wipes her mouth with a napkin and takes a quick sip of water before getting back to her point.

"Anyways," America continues. "It was the middle of the night and they were eating spaghetti from one plate. Everything was romantic, the stars were shining - it was beautiful. While they we eating, they avoided eye contact, until they ended up sharing a noodle, and they accidentally kissed."

America gushes as Maxon scrunches his eyebrows. She nods her head as she shakes his.

"That is the weirdest thing I have ever heard," Maxon comments.

"It was romantic," America argues. "C'mon, let's try it."

"No."

"Please, Maxon," America reaches across their table and takes his hand with both of her. She looks at him with pleading eyes and Maxon looks away, knowing he won't be able to stay resistant to those blue orbs.

"Alright, fine."

America claps her hands together excited as Maxon sits back in his chair. She cleverly uses two forks and twirls the pasta around at once. Maxon takes one fork and she has the other. Both of them take a bite at the same time and see the single noodle stretched out between their two mouths. America laughs a little and Maxon is a bit surprised that this actually worked (also, he's impressed). In one fluent motion, America pounces forwards to kiss him. He smiles wildly, taking her into his arms.

Sure, there weren't any wild paparazzi to spoil their night (nor would Nicoletta have let them gone out alone without any kind of security), but all pictures taken by peeping reporters were sure to hit the papers the next morning.

* * *

 **If there are any mistakes, I am sorry for a multitude of reasons: it's late at night and I'm tired, my laptop is almost done updating, and I'm not wearing my glasses.**

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	26. Photo 26: Kiss Me Better

**This chapter is so freaking cute. I hope all of you like it.**

 **Also, this story has over 50 reviews! Yay!**

* * *

Photo #26: Kiss Me Better

Eadlyn furrows her brows together looking at the next photo, not knowing why it made it on the wall. But after all the photos she's already seen, she understands that her father will put any picture up as long as it involved his dear wife in any way.

The picture is of her mother, sitting up in her bed and it's obvious that she's sick. It's nothing like the state she's in at the moment, but at least she's awake in the picture. Her mother is blowing her nose, wrapped in blankets, and surrounded by wadded-up tissues and multiple tissue boxes (some empty, some not). This could be argued upon, but Eadlyn would pick having the common cold over a heart attack any day.

Odd enough, Eadlyn smiles.

-o-

America dabs her nose with a scrunched up tissue after blowing it hard. She exhales through her mouth as she looks over at Maxon who stands at her bedside, lowering his camera.

"Stop taking pictures of me," America says miserably.

She throws the tissue she just used at Maxon. Maxon scampers away, letting the tissue fall to the ground along with many others. America tries to giggle, but ends up coughing into her arm. Maxon rubs her back and she takes a gracious sip of water.

"I can't help it," Maxon replies. "Your nose is as red as your hair. It's aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Mine, especially."

America really wants to frown at him, but her scowl turns into a smile. She blows her nose again before looking up at Maxon with her bluest eyes.

"Will you kiss me so I get better?" America asks.

She puckers up her slightly chapped lips and stretches her neck towards her husband. Maxon folds his hands and hesitates with a cringe. He loves his wife, he really does, but he doesn't want to kiss her and get sick himself. America sits back down and laughs a little for her own amusement.

A small knock is heard on the door. Maxon walks over, opens it, and Lucy peeks her head through the door with a joyful grin on her face as she bows her head for respect towards the royal couple. She walks in with a tray of fresh hot soup, steaming tea, and cough medicine. She places the bed tray on America lap as Maxon closes the door.

"How are you feeling, my queen?" Lucy asks, picking up the nearby trash can. She picks up the wadded tissues and swipes the ones sitting on her quilt, clearing up the mess.

"I can barely breathe," America wheezes.

"Hopefully this soup will help you. Just get some rest and you should be up on your feet soon enough."

"Thank you, Lucy," America says. "Where would I be without you?"

Lucy gives a genuine smile before bowing her head again and scurrying out the door. Maxon sits on America's now-clean bedside and looks at her little set-up.

"How about I feed you your soup?" Maxon asks America.

"Awe..." America coos. "You really don't have to. I can feed myself and the longer you stay with me, the more likely you'll get whatever I have."

"Nonesense," Maxon announces. "You are my dear wife and I made my vows to love you in sickness as well as in health."

"You're the best," America whispers to him.

Maxon smiles to himself. America quickly kisses him on the cheek. Maxon shudders, making America burst out laughing. Besides, laughter is the best medicine.

* * *

 **This chapter may have been joyful and such, but I just thought of a really emotional one-shot I want to write for America and Maxon. Someting separate, not part of this story. If given free time and interest from any of you, I will write it.**

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	27. Photo 27: An Abundance of Leaves

**I came up with this idea during the summer but am writing during the first week of autumn where I live. Coincidence?**

 **Just a quick note in case you don't know, autumn and fall are the same thing.**

* * *

Photo #27: An Abundance of Leaves

The next photo makes Eadlyn feel all warm on the inside. She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around herself, only to imagine the photo taking place around her: The Schreaves and Woodworks are all gathered in the courtyard of the palace. An abundance of leaves in multiple fall colors surround them. Many were still falling from the trees as they threw them back into the air by the handful, only to repeat the cycle. Every single person in the frame of the photo had a real smile on their face.

They don't as of right now. If Eadlyn were to open her eyes, she would only see the tears from everyone in the palace and the closed life-endangered eyes of her mother. It may be the present, but Eadlyn keeps her eyes closed to reminence in the past just for a moment. A smile creepes onto her face, scaring away the oncoming tears as she thinks back to the time in the photo where there was only joy and nothing to worry about.

-o-

Autumn has approached Illéa and all the leaves on the trees have turned from green to various shades of red, yellow, orange, and brown. Some green stays behind, but not a lot. The summer's humidity has been exchanged for a chilly breeze just as t-shirts and skirts have been traded in for sweaters and pants.

As of right now, all the kids sit in the foyer of the castle, playing amongst themselves. A young Ahren, Kaden, and Kile play a board game with the pieces scattered all around them along with the instructions and the rules, Eadlyn sits on a satin bench against the wall with her nose deep in her designing sketchbook, and Josie hovers above baby Osten's playpen holding a stuffed bear for him to grasp onto.

America and Maxon walk in, checking up on the kids since they have nothing to do on their agenda for the day, royalty wise. They want to use their day-off as a day to spend with their kids. As Maxon joins the boys with their board game, America peeks over Eadlyn's shoulder to catch even the slightest glimpse of what her daugher is drawing. Eventually, Carter walks in where the kids are, looking tired from a day's work, but not completely out of energy.

"Any of you want to jump in the leaves?" Carter asks them.

All at once, the kids perk up and run outside, past Carter. He joins them outside and America comes out with Marlee and all their sweaters since it is a chilly day. The two mothers force their kids to wear them and they agree to it unwillingly. Maxon stands to the side with his trusty camera and Osten in a papoose that's strapped across his chest.

There were many leaf piles set across the lawn, each bigger than all the kids which only make them more excited. Kile is the first to jump in and the others follow his pattern. All of the kids scream out of their own amusement as they fall into the leaves. As they stand up, some stick to the fabric of their clothes and hair. They take them off (or leave them on) as they jump back in again. All of the kids have reached that point where picking the leaves off wouldn't make that much of a difference if they were going to jump back in (which they obvioiusly did).

In fact, they became little leaf piles of their own.

America and Marlee stand to the side, picking up leaves from the ground and throwing them on top of their smiling children. Carter would rake the flattened leaves back up to a voluminous pile, loving to watch the kids just jump back in. Maxon stands to the side, taking pictures of the whole event, occasionally walking to different sides to capture a new angle. He even got a picture of America throwing leaves right into the camera with a snarky grin on her face.

Maxon picks up a handful of leaves and holds them out to the baby strapped on his chest. Osten stretches out his little arms and slowly takes a leaf from his father. Maxon playfully throws the leaves in the air to capture Osten's attention, but the little boy's eyes are fixated on that one leaf. Osten rips the leaf in halves and throws one half on the ground. He puts the half he kept in his mouth and Maxon freaks out.

"No!" Maxon exclaims, pulling out the piece of nature from his son's mouth. Osten looks at him with confusion before Maxon breaks out into a smile. "I don't get it. You'd eat nature, but not your vegetables."

* * *

 **This was so cute. I'm proud of it.**

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	28. Photo 28: Build a Trap

**Middle Sister , this idea came from you and I was able to come up with a case where Eadlyn takes the picture.**

* * *

Photo #28: Build a Trap

Eadlyn has a very good recollection of the next photo, considering the fact that she was the one who took it. The picture takes place in the early hours of the morning and is of her parents sleeping together. It's nothing out of the norm, except for the fact that Osten asked her to take the photo to show off the lovely rainbow assortment he made all over their bedroom floor.

Osten was always the most creative sibling...just not in the way everyone thought. In a way, one could say that he inherited his mother's artistic side but not in the typical arts like music or painting. If the art of pranking can be considered as a legitimate form of art, then he was the best artist there was. But to formally call Osten an artist, he could be categorized as a sculptor or even an architect. The only problem is that he didn't make sculptors or buildings.

Osten specializes in crafting traps made for the victims of his pranks.

-o-

Eadlyn was up early one morning, trying another attempt at running a mile in or under seven minutes. She wasn't able to do it, but it was a valiant attempt and she has a new personal best. She would usually finish her run before everyone was awake, so it strikes her as odd when she sees Osten sneaking out of their parents' room - especially since he doesn't sleep there.

"Osten!" Eadlyn exclaims softly, making Osten jump a little. "What were you doing in there?!"

"Can you take a picture?" Osten asks, avoiding her question and handing Eadlyn their father's camera.

Eadlyn takes the camera in her hands. A part of her believes that she should ask Osten why he was in their parents' room and why he's giving her a camera. It's Osten, she most likely wouldn't want to know.

"Why?" Is all Eadlyn feels is appropriate to ask.

Osten slowly opens the bedroom door of her parents. He opens an arm out to show Eadlyn the lovely flooring he placed. Eadlyn's jaw drops to their new floor plan. Osten actually took the time to make a carpet of Legos that covered every square inch of their bedroom floor. Osten gives Eadlyn a devilish smile full of pride. Eadlyn doesn't know if it's because she's still catching her breath from her run or the shock of Osten's prank, but she literally has no words.

"Wow," Aspen says, approaching them from behind. He looks at the Legos and has a look of admiration on his face. "We should've used that when the rebels were still around."

Osten laughs excitedly, clapping a little. Eadlyn gives Aspen a little glare telling him not to give her little brother any kind of praise for this. Aspen playfully shrugs as he continues his patrol across the palace.

"Eady...take a picture," Osten begs, tugging on her pant leg.

"Fine," Eadlyn states.

Normally, she would be against this, but this photo could be used as evidence against this playful crime. Eadlyn takes a picture and hands Osten back the camera.

"Here, you happy?" Eadlyn asks.

Osten nods, bobbing his head up and down like a bobble head. Eadlyn can't help but to smile at the sight of her little troublemaker-of-a-brother happy. She ruffles his hair.

"What are you two doing?" The muffled voice of Maxon asks them as he slowly wakes up.

Osten runs off in a hurry, leaving Eadlyn alone. Maxon and America look at their eldest daughter and Eadlyn is trying to come up with something to say. From her parent's eyes, they see their daughter who's sweating and panting at their doorway, holding a camera. Eadlyn turns to look for Osten, but the little one is nowhere to be seen.

"Mom, Dad..." Eadlyn starts nervously. She has nothing. Eadlyn just shrugs a little.

America peers over her bedside and is about to step out, but looks at the ground below her feet and immediately pulls them back up in recognition of what covers the floor. what's covering her floor. When she sees Maxon try to get out of bed, she grabs his arm. Maxon looks over the bed, and sees the whole floor replaced with Legos. Maxon huffs a frustrated breath as he gives Eadlyn another look. Eadlyn just shrugs again.

"Maxon, how do we get out of this?" America asks him.

"What do you mean, _'how do we get out of this?'_ " Maxon mocks his wife. "We just step out and go scold our son."

"It isn't that simple," Eadlyn pipes in.

"This is a child's toy," Maxon argues. "Not a bear trap."

America holds her knees at her chest and begins rocking back and forth. Maxon takes another breath as he steps out of the bed, barefoot on the Legos. Maxon curses in pain as he jumps back into bed. America and Eadlyn bring a hand to their mouth, muffling their laughter. They know that stepping on a Lego is arguably worse than stepping on rocks that have been lying in the humid heat on a hot summer day.

"Osten Schreave!" Maxon screams at the top of his lungs. "You clean this mess up right now or I am banning Legos from this country!"

* * *

 **I really like this chapter. I think it's cute and funny.**

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	29. Photo 29: She's Most Vulnerable When

**About the last chapter, Maxon probably didn't go through with the Lego ban.**

* * *

Photo #29: She's Most Vulnerable When

If there's anything that excites Eadlyn, it's the power a woman has. In this new day and age, women have much more rights and privileges in society. Not to mention the obvious, she's going to be the first female successor of the throne. That thought makes her happy, but what really brightens the smile on her face is the next photo.

It shows her mother sitting back, relaxing. Her red hair is resting on her shoulders as she lies down. To sum it all up, she's comfortable. Her mother's face is covered in some kind of green slime with cucumbers on her eyes and her hands fanned out with a fresh manicure drying. Eadlyn knows that as she looks at this photo, she still thinks of her mom as the most powerful woman she know. It is said that women are most vulnerable only when their nails are drying, but even then they can still pull the trigger.

-o-

"Isn't this relaxing?" Marlee asks America, rubbing her shoulders.

America responds in a relaxed noise. Marlee smiles as she opens a lotion scented like rose water, making the whole room smell as pleasant. America breathes in and out and she never thought that something as simple as breathing could be so calming to the soul, but it is right now.

Marlee begins putting a green face mask on America. Its cool feeling tingles against her warm skin and America smirks a little at the new sensation.

"You deserve a day of relaxation," Lucy says, finishing off America's manicure. "You do too much with not enough rest."

"I really don't," America says just out of modesty. She really doesn't mind the nice treatment.

"Of course you do," Marlee chimes, putting cucumbers on America's eyes. "You work too much and nobody likes a stressed-out Queen. A little relaxation never hurt anyone."

America wants to smile, but the mask is slowly hardening on her face which prevents her from moving her face even the slightest. Lucy moisturizers her hands as Marlee tends her hair. The Queen of Illéa deserved this day of pampering and spoiling.

"Lucy, come with me and get some towels," Marlee says.

The two ladies quietly leave the room, leaving America to lie down on a beach chair in pure and wanted silence. America takes slow breaths as she feels the soft sunshine from the half-closed window warming up her face. This is what America needed: she just needed a day. The country will still be there and she can return to her throne with clear skin and a fresh manicure.

She hears the door open again and footsteps coming in. She assumes it to be Marlee and Lucy back with the towels. America feels hands massaging her shoulders again and munching on the bowl of cucumbers that was sitting on a nearby table. If America could, she would furrow her eyebrows since something doesn't feel right about this whole situation. The grip Marlee has on her shoulders is far too strong for her little dainty hands.

America removes the cucumbers from her eyes and sees Maxon giving her the massage with his camera hanging from his neck (knowing that he definitely took a picture of her with her face mask). America straightens her posture and then sees Carter sitting by her, eating the cucumbers. Carter gives her a goofy smile and if her face wasn't stiff, she would smile back. Maxon kisses the top of her head and continues to rub the knots out of her joints.

"Looking beautiful, my Queen," Carter says.

America wants to narrow her eyes because she knows that she's covered in green goop and he'/ most likely being sarcastic. Carter continues munching on cucumbers.

"I should get a day off," Maxon says, looking up. "I deserve one."

"America can be pampered and still rule the country," Carter says to Maxon. "You, I'm not so sure about."

"Of course she can. She's my powerful queen," Maxon adds, ignoring the last part of what Carter said. "Even though women are most vulnerable when their nails are drying, they can still dictate laws."

Maxon puts his hands on America's shoulders and looks at her bright blue eyes poking out of the darkened green mask. If her face wasn't so stiff, she would smile.

* * *

 **Thank god it's my Thanksgiving weekend.**

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	30. Photo 30: Ahren's Chamomile

**I love this idea so much. In fact, it inspired me to write a short story for Ahren and Camille.**

* * *

Photo #30: Ahren's Chamomile

The more Eadlyn thinks about it, the more she realizes that she has no reason to despise Camille. Camille loves her brother, enough to elope with him, and Eadlyn knows that there isn't one thing she hates about Camille because she was a symbol that represented life. Camille looked alive: she was always bright and smiling. Nothing could put a storm over her sunshine, no matter how dark and loud the thunder was.

The next photo is a snippet from a newspaper when the royals of France visited Illéa a few years ago. This picture is Queen Daphne de Sauveterre and America standing in the middle of Eadlyn and Camille. Camille has a natural smile and Eadlyn knows her own looks forced.

Eadlyn runs a finger down Camille's golden hair in the photo and begs for her to bring home her twin and shine her light over the country that needs it.

-o-

A photography flash blinds the eyes of the four ladies as the possible hundredth photo finishes being taken. Queen Daphne takes a breath, America shakes her shoulders from the stiffness that comes with doing the same pose for so long, Eadlyn constantly blinks in order to restore her eyesight, and Camille still wears her shining smile.

Eadlyn walks off to side where Ahren comes up to her. Noticing his twins' fluttering eyes, he decides to come help.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Ahren jokes, putting a hand with some fingers up.

Eadlyn smirks as she pushes away his hand (even though the answer was three and she knew that). She rubs her eyes, careful not to ruin her eye makeup.

"Eadlyn," Maxon calls from across the room. "Come and take a picture with Camille."

Eadlyn takes a heavy breath and sighs. Ahren puts a hand on her shoulder. They both look ahead at their father who's encouraging her to come over and Camille standing next to him, straightening out her dress. She looks up and Ahren can feel his heart stop as he looks into her sparkling blue eyes.

"I'll take a photo with her," Ahren says, beginning to gravitate towards Camille.

Ahren's known Camille ever since he was a child but now that they were teenagers, he feels something different about her. Something about the way she presents herself and holds herself up suddenly allures him. She's a woman of grace and happiness all in one.

"Ahren?" Camille questions, expecting to see Eadlyn.

"Bonjour, Camille," Ahren greets, also practicing his French.

Ahren puts an arm around Camille's waist and holds her close as Maxon snaps a photo of them. It lasts only a second, but Ahren wishes it went longer, just so he could hold her for much longer.

Is this what love feels like? Ahren loves his family, but what he's suddenly feeling for Camille is different. And from what he's seeing, her hand isn't leaving him either. He's never felt this way before any girl, let alone Princess Camille de Sauveterre. Camille looks up at Ahren and purses her pink lips before letting herself out of Ahren's grip.

"Danse avec moi plus tard," Camille says, walking off towards her mother.

Ahren nods his head. Camille spins around, her golden locks of hair and billowing skirt following. She sashays away and Ahren finds himself not being able to take his eyes off her.

"Ahren," Eadlyn calls.

Ahren turns around to face her, still in his little daze. He looks into Eadlyn's eyes, still thinking about Camille. He shakes his head, warping back into reality, and Eadlyn stares at him.

"What?" Ahren asks.

"I said that Camille literally looks like a flower," Eadlyn replies as her eyes look towards the French princess who's currently giggling away. "She's so dainty and fragile."

"She does," Ahren replies, not for the same reason as Eadlyn. "There's just something about her that reminds me of a certain flower. God, Eady, tell me some flowers."

"Roses?" Eadlyn guesses, not understanding why she's doing this. "Forget-Me-Nots? Bluebells?"

"No, no, the ones that sound like her,"

Eadlyn gives Ahren a strange face, but returns it back to neutral when her mother looks her way. Eadlyn clears her throat as Ahren still looks at Camille. If anything, Camille reminds her of a sunflower because both capture attention and associated with the sun.

"Tulips?" Eadlyn guesses again.

"How do tulips sound like Camille?" Ahren questions, sighing. Eadlyn shrugs. "I'm talking about those little daisies from Europe."

Eadlyn shakes her head. "I'm not a botanist."

"Chamomile!" Ahren exclaims. "She's like a chamomile flower: so simple yet so whimsical."

Eadlyn narrows her eyes as Ahren walks over to get his dance with her. They dance like flowers in a meadow - swaying to the music like flowers to the wind and showing off their bright colors. Eadlyn knows that at this point, her brother has fallen down the meadow's rabbit hole and into the flower pit of Princess Camille de Sauveterre.

* * *

 **If you hate Camille, then tell it to someone who cares because I love her! If you need French translations, I will be happy to provide.**

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	31. Photo 31: Land Ho!

**I have no internet at home (sadly, again) which is why my boat vocabulary is non-existent or probably wrong for this chapter.**

* * *

Photo #31: Land Ho!

This is the first photo, out of all them so far, that has made Eadlyn bring a hand to her mouth to cover up her small laugh. It was strange because there were certainly funnier moments captured in a snapshot that she has seen before this, but this is the one that gets her heart slowly filling with joy.

The photo takes place on a boat, not so long ago. Her mother is posing at the edge, looking up with a roaring laughter on her face. Her father, on the other hand, has the upper-half of his body turned over the railing.

Eadlyn's not even close to being a doctor, but anyone can recognize sea sickness anywhere.

-o-

The Schreaves and their friends spend their day on a boat, sailing across the oceans of Illéa. There were no tiaras or ball gowns present; just jeans, sweaters, and shoes with no heels. It was an overcast day with a little breeze which was a good day to go boating.

"Put on your sunscreen!" Marlee yells at her kids as Kile and Josie hang around on the deck with the Schreave kids doung various activities.

"But there's no sun," Kile argues.

"Don't give me that attitude and just put some on."

Marlee squirts some sunscreen in her hands and forcibly rubs is on Kile's face. Kile tries to resist his mom, but she manages to get a good, healthy layer on his face (maybe even too much). Kile breaks away and smears some of it off. He walks back to the deck chair he was lying down on and picks up his sketchbook.

The three older kids, Kile, Eadlyn, and Ahren were all sitting down on chairs, writing in their notebooks or drawing in their sketchbooks. Kile was most likely sketching a type of boat he would want to build, Eadlyn doing the same except with overseas fashion, and Ahren was obviously writing a love letter to his one and only Camille; Josie was talking to one of the sailors on board with her zany personality shining; Osten was playing with a life-preserver; and Kaden was trying his absolute best to stop his brother at whatever shenanigan he was planning next.

Marlee rubs the excess sunscreen from her hands on Carter's face as he passes by. He narrows his eyes at him wife who begins giggling, before he breaks out into an expected crooked smile.

America walk onto the deck, wearing Maxon's camera around her neck. She smiles at the sight of all the children behaving on the boat as if it was the palace - even Osten. A part of her wishes the kids would better appreciate the beauty that surrounds them, but if you were to look out into the open from the port of the boat to the starboard, all you would see is the same view of water. America turns around and sees Maxon swaying on his feet as he approaches her, bringing a hand to his forehead.

"Are you alright?" America asks him, putting a hand on his shoulder in concern.

"Just a little dizzy," Maxon replies, taking a breath.

"Maxon, do you get motion sickness?" Marlee asks, with a hint of a laugh in her question.

"Nonsense. I am perfectly fine on airplanes."

"Sea-sick?" Carter suggests.

Maxon opens his mouth to argue otherwise, but the salty breeze blows against his face, making his stomach a bit queasy. He doesn't say anything and America wraps an arm around his.

"Let's get your mind off that," Marlee says to Maxon. "How about I take a photo of you and America with the ongoing ocean as your background?"

Maxon nods. America steps forwards and takes Maxon's camera off her neck. She passes it to Marlee. Maxon puts an arm around America's shoulders and smiles brightly, ignoring the nauseous signals his body is screaming at him loudly. As America smiles, the captain of the ship steps out on deck and yells, "Land Ho!" The idea of land being nearby makes Maxon smile brighter.

Before Marlee could get a good focus on the couple with the camera, the boat hits a wave. Marlee stumbles a bit and the motion hits Maxon like a tidal wave.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Maxon says, turning around and leaning his torso over the railing.

America looks up at the cloudy sky and bursts into laughter. Maxon doesn't actually hurl, but the thought and process of him almost doing so made her laugh so hard. Marlee, finally getting the camera to focus, snaps a picture of that. Maxon, completely parched, stands up straight, taking deep breaths. He looks at his smiling wife and feels better at the sight of her joy.

"Daddy!" Osten screams. "Daddy, I'll save you!"

Osten runs up to the group of adults and throws the life-preserver he was playing with earlier at his father like a frisbee. Maxon catches it and blinks a few times, trying to figure out what just happened to him.

"Thank you, Osten," Maxon says since there was no other response in mind.

* * *

 **When was the last time I was on a boat? I honestly don't remember.**

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	32. Photo 32: Morning Scare

**I apologize for no update last week but I was busy typing a total of five Halloween themed chapters, including this one.**

 **Happy Halloween!**

* * *

Photo #32: Morning Scare

Eadlyn remembers reading in her history textbooks about how Halloween was once a scary time of the year. For her mother's sake, her father decided to revive the Halloween traditions across the country of Illéa, 80 years after Gregory Illéa had banned them, because he orignially thought of them as a frivolous and wasteful pastime. The second time around, Halloween became a time to wear pouffier ball gowns, extravagant wigs, makeup that didn't match, and go heavy on the sparkle without judgement from others.

The next photo shows the only person who opposed the glamorous second-coming of Halloween: Osten (even if he wasn't in the photo since he was the photographer this time). He basically saw Halloween the same as every other day of the year without the signature scare element it once had, so he got to work. In the picture is the hallway of the castle where all the royal bedrooms are. Eadlyn, Ahren, Kaden, and their parents stand just outside their bedrooms covered in the same shame, anger, and embarrassment that only came with being victims of Osten's prank.

Eadlyn remembers that day and boy, did she really hate it.

Long story short, she woke up that morning with a skeleton hugging her.

-o-

During the early hours of the morning of October 31, Osten creeps around the hallway of the royal bedroom wing of the castle, still dressed in his clothes from the previous day since he did not have a wink of sleep last night. (They were no longer in perfect condition due to his busy night). He tiptoes as careful as possible not to make the floor creak or drop his father's camera hanging around his neck. He stands at the very end of the hallway, at a point where he can see all the closed doors. Osten gets the camera and points it at the empty hallway, waiting for just the right moment.

One shrieking scream fills the palace, but Osten warned the guards in advance not to respond (he filled Aspen in on the plan earlier this week and it went into action last night. Aspen didn't bother to tell Osten different since it wouldn't change the child's mind whatsoever and only make him want to do it even more).

Eadlyn's bedroom door bursts open and she steps out. She's fuming mad and strangles the skeleton she woke up next to with a tight grip around its bony neck. Another shriek comes next followed by Ahren opening his bedroom door and tripping over the spider-covered-cobwebs that were covering every corner of his room. He lands on the floor and doesn't have a reaction when he sees Eadlyn and her skeleton.

"Is that foreshadowing your future marriage?" Ahren jokes, nudging at the skeleton.

Eadlyn narrows her eyes and throws the skeleton on the ground. "No, I woke up with this thing cuddling me. Its friends are all partying in my room. I think one of them was wearing my dresses. What happened to you?"

"I woke up in a spiderweb with a giant spider hanging right above me," Ahren explains.

The third scream happens. Kaden's door opens next and a thick layer of fog pours out. Eadlyn and Ahren's eyes and jaws drop open at the phenomenon. Kaden steps out and closes his door shut even though fog still pours out from the crack underneath.

"Mommy! Daddy!" Kaden screams for, running towards their room. "I woke up in a cemetery! There were tombstones everywhere and the Grim Reaper was hanging from the ceiling!"

Osten giggles to himself at the distress and fear from his siblings. This was the way Halloween was supposed to be: frightening. So far, this was so worth staying up all night and sneaking in everyone's room to redecorate. Even if he were to get grounded (which he definitely would), it wouldn't phase him since he would be stuck in his room and take that chance to catch up on his sleep.

Last, but not least, America and Maxon burst out of their room, screaming and detangling themselves from "blood"-covered bedsheets. They kick the sheets on the floor and quickly compose themselves from their small horror. The two of them look at their three oldest kids and their equally stunned expressions, but their eyes quickly look at their youngest at the end of the hallways with the camera pointed at them since they know him as the master behind this evil.

"Osten!" His parents and siblings all yell, covering the sound of a camera click.

"Happy Halloween!" Osten screams back at all of them before breaking down in laughter.

* * *

 **I know there is usually a Halloween ball in Illéa, but I didn't feel like writing a ball since that's what the next chapter is all about. Maybe I'll write a Halloween ball next year if this story is still around (which it probably will).**

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	33. Photo 33: The Belle of the Ball

**This is based off of a concrete poem I wrote last year for English class with the same title. I actually based the pose of my woman on the covers of _The Selection_ and the poem was written in her dress. It was beautiful and I kept it to this day.**

* * *

Photo #33: The Belle of the Ball

Eadlyn has heard the stories of her mother at royal parties. She's heard them all.

Her mother was a woman of whimsy and grace. She always dressed classy yet still presentable. She always wore the right amount of sparkle and tulle; and her makeup was never too dark or too light. Her skin, even though pale, was always crystal clear. She would walk as if she was on a cloud, in charge of the whole sky (despite the uncomfortable heels). And in response, all eyes would turn to her, shimmering like stars.

The next photo shows Eadlyn's mother at one of those events, radiating her light and proving to her that she truly was the belle of the ball. Her mother is dancing with her father and Eadlyn can see an everlasting passion in the eyes on her father as he looks down at his beautiful wife.

-o-

"Now announcing the arrival of the King and Queen of Illéa," a noble duke announces to the patrons of the ballroom at the bottom of the staircase.

Many guests below turn to look at America and Maxon since this is their first public appearance since their wedding and coronation. All of them raise their glasses in honor and respect for them. Maxon, with arms linked with America's, starts leading her down the grand staircase towards the ball.

"I can't breathe in this dress," America whispers to Maxon, keeping a smile on her face for the cameras.

"You should've gone with another dress," Maxon whispers back.

"Oh please, Maxon," America teases. "You love this dress."

Maxon grins at his wife just as a camera flashes in their faces, capturing their lovestruck expressions just on time. He did agree that his wife looked spectacular. America wears a sparkling dress in the color of champagne gold. It has a tight bodice to show her curves which slowly transforms into a flow at her feet. Her heels are silver, complimenting the metallic theme she has for herself tonight. Her red hair is pinned into a tight bun on top of her head, forcing her to keep her head up at all times. Her maids did a wonderful job of helping her get ready and she couldn't be more grateful.

Once they reach the gala, many other royals and people of high status attending immediately begin to swarm the two. Maxon receives friendly handshakes as America gets two-cheek kisses. Conversations start with condolences for the two of them on the loss of the former king and queen as well as any other lives taken during the rebel's attack. Then, they congratulate both of them on their marriage and coronation, Maxon on his initiative to remove the castes classifying system in Illéa, and America for her spark to the project and compliment her for jeweled necklace that shines brighter than any star in the night sky.

After the welcoming conversations to warm up the night, the orchestra starts a new symphony. Maxon puts his empty champagne glass on a passing waiter's tray and holds an escorting hand out for his wife.

"Shall we dance?" Maxon questions.

America smiles as a way to accept. She does the same with her champagne glass as Maxon as she accepts his free hand. He leads her onto the center of the gala which was reserved for dancing. The two of them begin to sway back and forth gracefully in rhythm to the steady music and in coordination with the other couples. As America looks at all the other people, she sees their eyes on her. She closes her eyes and lowers her head into the crook of Maxon's neck to avoid direct eye contact. Maxon notices her sudden timidness and grins a little.

"What is it?" He asks a tad playful.

America doesn't answer. Instead, she looks up at the crystal chandelier above her, seeing a tiny, moving, red dot in the reflection representing her. Maxon spins America around and her golden skirt flourishes beneath her. America almost laughs at the sudden excitement as she places her signature on the cheek of her lover, signing with her lips.

Her blue eyes travel around the ballroom and see that no other eye has left them since they arrived.

"Everyone is staring..." America mutters to herself.

"They're all looking at you," Maxon whispers into America's ear, slowly spinning her around.

"They're not looking at me," America replies timidly, blushing a little.

"You're so modest, my dear." Maxon grins, kissing her hair.

* * *

 **Guys, now that I think about it, I wrote this poem because of _The Selection._**

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	34. Photo 34: Round & Round

**I wrote something like this in my other stories and decided to put it here because it's cute and why the hell not.**

* * *

Photo #34: Round & Round

Eadlyn smiles warmly at the youth and thrill her mother has in the next photo.

It's a candid of her mother looking over her shoulder at the night sky. The sky was dark yet full of stars. Her red hair and blue eyes pierce through the darkness. Her smile is subtle, but can still be seen.

The photo is a closeup that only shows her face and neck so Eadlyn doesn't really have any other context as to a story behind the event of it. To Eadlyn, anything could be happening.

-o-

A few months after the wedding of Maxon and America, a new carnival opened in Angeles. On the opening day, Maxon gave a heartwarming speech before him and America cut the ribbon with a pair of over-sized scissors before enjoying the night with their citizens.

Even though he was the king and a grown man, Maxon was a child at heart which was more evident than now at a place like a carnival. Everything around him screamed the childhood he wish he could've lived. His father's parenting was strict and conservative - he never got the chance to be a kid.

And nothing made him light up more than his beautiful wife and her awestruck wonder.

Everything from the booths to the rides made America smile her fullest, especially the sweets. She tried everything from the funnel cakes to the caramel corn, and the candy apples. The one treat she loved the most was the cotton candy (and she tasted every color and flavor there was).

After a night that consisted of laughter, enjoyment, and sugar, what the royal couple needed was a nice, relaxing ride in a Ferris wheel. Whe they both enter the carousel, America sits on one end and Maxon on the other. When it begins moving, America perks up and begins looking all around her, watching everything below get smaller and smaller the higher up they go.

Just like her plane ride from Carolina to Angeles because of the Selection, America loved being in the air. Something about being high off the ground and closer to the sky amazed her for some reason.

America peeks over the edge from one side and then slides across her seat to look over the other. Maxon grins to himself as he quickly snaps a photo with his camera that's been hanging around his neck the whole evening.

In the dark, the flash from the camera pops and America gasps a little from the shock. Maxon laughs as America crosses one leg over the other and does the same to her arms.

"Not cool, Maxon," America scolds. "We're over a hundred feet in the air."

"All the more reason to do this, love," Maxon replies playfully. "We're on top of the world right now, even without our crowns."

America looks down and sees the lights from the booths from below only as blurs. "Still, it's a long way down."

Their carousel stops at the top after going around twice. Maxon thinks of a way to have fun while up in the air. While America isn't looking, Maxon begins to rock the carousel back and forth.

"Maxon," America states firmly.

That doesn't stop him. Maxon continues to rock the carousel, much to America's protest and their lives at stake. At one point, Maxon adds a little too much force on his rocking. America falls forwards and Maxon pounces her way just to restore equilibrium. They collide in the middle and lie on the floor of the carousel. Maxon has a firm arm on top of America and they both wait as the carousel stops rocking.

When it pauses, Maxon sighs of relief and chuckles softly on top of his wife. America slaps his chest with the back of her hand.

"That was scary!" America yells. "My heart is racing."

"That's when you know you're having fun," Maxon replies, kissing the top of her head.

"Oh stop that, Maxon Shreave," America says, though she wants him to keep on going.

* * *

 **If there are any mistakes (which there probably are), I am sorry. I didn't proofread this.**

 **Stalk Me! Links are in my bio!**

 **Reviews, Follows, Favorites, and Recommendations are always accepted :D**


	35. Photo 35: Under the Loop

**I cannot make any promises for longer chapter lengths since my chapters for other stories are more or less 1000 words. I know that other Selection fanfics have about 5000 words per chapter but I would rather publish a well-written short chapter than a long and crappy one.**

 **Anyways, this cute idea came to me from not really paying attention in church.**

* * *

Photo #35: Under the Loop

For as long as Eadlyn could remember, she and her brothers were always taught how to be formal. When a part of the royal family, one must know how to look and act proper at all times since all eyes gravitate towards you and even the slightest flaw will be remembered forever. Even as a little girl, Eadlyn was already wearing heels, makeup, and even though she had maids to help, she was taught how to put on a corset and tie it up. It was something that was bound to have been taught eventually, so better it be taught in a fresh mind rather than a mature one.

Eadlyn lightly touches the next photo and it makes her smile. It has a five-year-old Kaden wearing his white dress top and matching black pants. He stands in front of their mother, who is kneeling to be at his height. In her hands are the ends of a deep blue tie that wraps around Kaden's neck.

Eadlyn can only think of the warm, positive thought of her mother teaching her younger brother how to tie a tie.

-o-

The Schreaves were due to be on The Report in less than an hour so all of them were busy preparing themselves. All of them were currently being dressed in their best threads, making sure to beat their last public appearance and leave everyone in Illéa speechless.

America's dress was being tailored last-minute by some maids as she was applying her own makeup. Maxon was across the room being aided with the buttons on his sleeves as he runs through his speech numerous times. America can vouch that he has rehearsed his speech so many times that she can recite it, backwards even. Then again, she loves hearing her husband's voice so she has no problems.

"Maxon, you will be fine," America says to comfort him, "if you mess up, I will swoop in and save you."

Maxon looks at her and can't help but smile. "I appreciate your help, dear."

America is about to respond, until an alarming scream perks her attention.

"Mommy!" She hears one of her kids scream.

Thanks to her motherly instincts, America leaps off the pedestal she has been standing on for the maids to adjust her dress. She runs over to the door and bursts out to see what the problem is. America sees Kaden, half-dressed, running over to her in a panic.

"Kaden, darling!" America exclaims back. "What is it? Are you in trouble? Are you okay?"

Kaden pulls at the tie around his neck, struggling to breathe due to the horrible knot it's in. America quickly bends down and unties it. Once it's off, Kaden relaxes and America gives a small smile as she caresses her young son.

"I wanted to tie it myself," Kaden explains, "I thought it would be like tying my shoes."

America gives a gentle laugh at his innocence. She takes the ends of the tie and wraps it over his shoulders. She rids the fabric of its wrinkles and looks at her son right in the eyes.

"Let me show you how it's done," America says, "okay?"

Kaden nods his head, always willing to learn something new.

"First step, put the tie around your neck and make sure the wider end is on the right and a few inches shorter than the other end." America shifts the tie. "Then take the ends in your hands and cross them over each other. "Now, make sure the wide end is in your other hand and vice versa."

America replaces her hands on the tie with Kaden's. This way, she controls his wrists so he's the one doing the practical task as she talks.

"Next, you're going to bring the wider end under the loop at your collar, and told it behind the smaller end," she instructs. "Now, pull the wide end through the loop - make sure to hold onto that knot so it doesn't get undone. Do that step again. And now tighten the know by pulling down on the base."

America tweaks it a little but still smiles brightly.

"And there you go," she says happily. "Now you know how to tie a tie."

Kaden beams excitedly. America gives him a kiss on the head before she encourages him to run back to his room to finish preparing for The Report. She stands up and straightens her dress. America turns around and sees Maxon peeking his head out the doorway with his camera in sight, knowing he took a snapshot. He passes her a tie as well and she cocks an eyebrow.

"Care to help me put on my tie as well?" He asks.

America grins as she takes it in her hands and wraps it around his neck. She begins forming the proper knot but gets distracted by Maxon constantly trying to kiss her.

"Maxon, please," she says, pushing his face back.

"Begging me to stop or keep on going?" He asks playfully.

America doesn't respond with words but an ambiguous smirk on her face. Her eyes stare into his before focusing back on his tie. Maxon takes the meaning behind that expression as the latter part and keeps on going.

* * *

 **Thanks to WikiHow, I now know how to tie ties.**

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	36. Photo 36: Mommy's Boys

**Again, this is another cute idea I don't remember the origin of.**

* * *

Photo #36: Mommy's Boys

The next picture shows the boys at a very young age. They were small and immature, but still being forced into manners and etiquette (especially her brothers. Kile got to be more lax about that). One of the most important lessons they were taught was how to behave around women. They must treat women with respect, that was the golden rule.

Eadlyn doesn't think that fact has anything to do with the photo on the wall before her eyes. It shows her brothers and Kile wearing their best clothes and playing the garden, covered in dirt and mud. Eadlyn rolls her eyes out of a sheer happiness and playful attitude, not from disgust.

Little does she remember the full story behind his photo...

-o-

"Boys!" Maxon exclaims from across the courtyard.

He heads over and sees his three sons and Kile sitting knee-deep in the beautiful garden along the castle walls. The boys all look over at him with little fear on their faces from the idea of being scolded. Baby Osten looks up with a smile and leaves from the stems in his mouth.

"What are you doing?" Maxon asks them with crossed arms.

All the boys look at each other, hoping one of them will come up with an answer, but Osten just spits out the leaves he had in his mouth.

"Better get out of there before your mothers find you," Maxon says, picking up his dirty baby. "Or worse, the gardener."

Maxon walks away, holding Osten away from him to prevent getting his own clothes stained. He didn't tell the boys but he snapped a photo of them playing in the mud, wanting to cherish the childish habits of playing outdoors. His father would've never let him play outside like this so that's why Maxon was more gentle on the boys.

Sometime later, the three muddy boys walk into the palace when they're finished in the gardens. It was easy to follow their path since they left a series of footprints all along the castle floors and hallways. When they approach the Women's Room, they immediately get stopped at the doorway.

"Don't you dare enter this room," America orders them.

Joined by Marlee and Lucy, America walks up to them and eyes them all from head to toe.

"What have we told you about playing around in your slacks?" Marlee questions in a scolding tone.

"We brought you flowers," Kile says to them.

Kile, Kaden, and Ahren all hold up their own bouquet of flowers. The flowers were an assortment freshly picked from the palace gardens (emphasis on fresh since the ends of the flowers were still attached to their roots and dirt). The ladies get hit with little specks of soil and they simply brush it off their clothes. They're skeptical to take it, but Marlee and America take a bouquet by the top of the stem.

"You too, Ms. Lucy," Ahren says, giving her a bouquet as well.

"You shouldn't have," Lucy says, closing her eyes as she sniffs the flowers. The scent is incredibly pleasant. "But here's a tip, boys, next time you do this, be sure to remove the roots first."

"But the roots keep the flowers alive," Kaden explains, "we want these flowers to live forever after we gave them to you."

The three women look at each other and grin to the fullest at the innocence and maturity portrayed before them. Even though they were still small and in the process of learning, they were attempting to be gentlemen in the best and cutest way possible - by giving the women they love something simple yet meaningful.

"Thank you so much, boys," Marlee says to the boys on behalf of America, Lucy, and herself, "this really brightened our days."

"We should put these in water," Lucy says, taking the other two bouquets and heading off to find some vases.

"Now go get changed into some clean clothes," America says, "and take a bath."

The women kiss the tops of the boys' heads (since it was the only part not covered in dirt) before they continue making the muddy footprints to their rooms. America and Marlee sigh out of joy.

"We're raising wonderful boys," America comments.

"They're going to have wonderful wives one day," Marlee adds. "Lucky wives."

"When was the last time our husbands gave us flowers?"

Marlee shrugs. "We now have our sons to make up for that."

* * *

 **I would honestly prefer a bouquet consisting a variety of chocolate, but that's just me.**

 **Stalk Me! Links are in my bio!**

 **Reviews, Follows, Favorites, and Recommendations are alwxays accepted :D**


	37. Photo 37: A Photo Finish

**This chapter title is good because it shows punny I am. Get it? A _Photo_ Finish for Photos _on the Wall_? I'm going to stop now.**

* * *

Photo #37: A Photo Finish

Seven minutes was always a big deal for Eadlyn. It determined not only the firstborn child of Maxon and America but the new and first female heir of Illéa. Seven minutes changed history. If it were any different, Ahren would've the heir and the rules would've remain.

Then again, if Ahren were the heir instead of her, nothing happening at this moment would cease to exist. Her mother will be alive without her life hanging by a thread, her brother would still be here and not married to Camille, and she wouldn't even have a Selection because she wouldn't need one.

The next photo on the wall shows a blur with some distinguishable features - like herself with Ahren. All Eadlyn knows is that like the photo itself, that event went by in a blur. It was the fastest seven minutes of her life.

-o-

"Come on, Ahren," Eadlyn begs. "Even if you mail your love letter tomorrow, Camille will still get it at the same time."

Ahren looks up from his writing station with a negative look on his face. His twin is begging and he doesn't want to agree. Eadlyn's never asked for much which is why he finds himself succumbing to that pressure.

"Fine," Ahren says, putting his pen down. "I'll meet you outside in ten."

"Thank you!" Eadlyn pipes before prancing out of his room.

In the courtyard of the royal garden, Eadlyn paces back and forth all while stretching her legs and arms. Osten lies down on his belly, playing with a stick and some rocks. Ahren shuffles down the stairs and joins Eadlyn. Both of them wearing track clothes.

"I got the camera," Ahren says, passing his twin their father's camera.

Eadlyn takes the camera and gives it to Osten.

"Here," Eadlyn says to Osten, "run to the rose bush all the way over there. Take our picture the exact moment we run past you."

Osten nods as he runs off to the rose bush and parks himself on a spot with the camera ready. Eadlyn looks at Ahren, excited for this.

"Are you ready?" Eadlyn asks, completely pumped.

"Can you run a mile in seven minutes?" Ahren asks, a tad nervous.

"I can run a mile," Eadlyn replies, "just not under seven minutes. What about you?"

Ahren takes a breath. "We'll find out today."

"I was born first, just letting you know."

"Only because I was a gentleman in the womb and _let_ you out first."

Eadlyn snickers.

The two of them stand beside each other at the palace doors, crouching down into the starting position. Their fingers graze the cobblestones as they look ahead and see how far Osten is. Both of them look up and anticipate when Osten will start the race. He counts down from five and when he hits one, he throws his arms in the air and the twins begin running as fast as they can.

There is no conclusive evidence on average one-mile run times because there is no scientifically agreed-upon average runner. Opinion varies widely, but people say the average is between seven and ten minutes. Eadlyn and Ahren aren't athletes, but they're fit.

The two of them run side-by-side, unintentionally keeping pace with each other. Ahren wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead as Eadlyn brushes the baby hairs sticking up. Although when they both glance at each other, they hide their vulnerability. They're both panting in desperate need of water, but neither of them are going to bail - they have a race to win.

The closer they get to Osten, the more they force their legs to pick up the pace (even if not possible). Eadlyn and Ahren exert as much force as they can in order to win. They don't even care about the whole seven minutes idea, especially since they're over that. Osten picks up the camera and puts it to his eye to have it ready for the big moment.

Eadlyn lets out a scream as her and Ahren pass Osten and a camera clicks. The twins stop running and take some time to catch their breaths from that challenging run.

Eadlyn holds a hand up. Her other hand grips her cramping side as she catches her breath. "I totally won that."

"No." Ahren gasps for air. "You did not."

"Did so."

They both look over at Osten who walks over to them. They need photo proof of who won. Osten holds up the camera and shows them the photo he took which ended up not bring great quality.

"Osten!" Eadlyn exclaims. "We can see anything. This picture is blurry!"

"Well, you and Ahren were running!" Osten argues back.

Ahren and Eadlyn squish their heads together as they begin examining the photo on the tiny screen of the camera. They thoroughly go through each streak of color, pretending it to be them so they can use it to their advantage of winning. The two of them crossed the finish line at roughly the same time so even if Osten was watching with his own two eyes, he couldn't declare a victor.

"Osten?" The twins ask for a second opinion.

When they turn around to ask their younger brother, they see him scurrying away. Their natural reaction would be to chase after him, but they're way too tired to do so.

* * *

 **Wow, this was long.**

 **I am going to be changing the format of my authors note towards the end just so it makes the entirety of my author notes smaller. I promise that the next chapter will contain some Maxon and America fluff.**

 **Stay Tuned - the Schreave kids will have a small mystery to solve.**


	38. Photo 38: Always Tugging

**I promised Maxmerica fluff and that I will deliver - even if they're not in this chapter.**

* * *

Photo #38: Always Tugging

Eadlyn knows that the story of her parents' Selection contained a lot of secrets - especially between the two of them. One of the secrets the kids wanted to know about was the action of ear tugging her parents would often do. It was a small and subtle gesture with a bigger meaning behind it.

The next photo is a miniature collage of candid shots of her mother or her father subtly tugging their ear at each other with loving smirks on their faces.

Eadlyn and her brothers wanted to know the story and significance behind it and they found out the hard way.

-o-

"Eady, Ahren, Kaden!" Osten calls, running through the palace in search of his siblings. Every time he shouted a new name, the volume of his voice increased by a lot.

Eventually, the rest of the Schreave kids find their yelling brother and ask him at once what he wants. Osten, with their father's camera, begins showing them a series of pictures.

"Does Dad know you have that?" Eadlyn asks him, suspicious of something.

"No, but this is important," Osten replies.

The pictures the youngest Schreave shows his siblings is a variety of candid shots of their parents doing the same action in different scenarios: tugging their ears at each other. The other kids are curious on two things: what that gesture means and where these pictures came from. The only answer they currently have is that Osten took the pictures while sneaking around.

"That's weird," Kaden says.

"Very," Ahren adds. "Why do they tug their ears so much?"

"And why at each other?" Eadlyn adds.

The Schreave kids relocate from the middle of the hallways to Eadlyn's room. They figured it would be easier to think while sitting on a comfortable bed in silence and hope not to run into their parents and have them asking questions.

"You two have been alive longer," Kaden says to Eadlyn and Ahren, lying in the middle of her bed. "Have you two ever seen them do this?"

Eadlyn and Ahren look at each other. Their heads tilt in sync as they mouth the same question to each other. Since they both had to ask, they look at Kaden and shake their heads.

"Maybe it's a royalty thing," Osten guesses.

"We're royal as well," Eadlyn says. "Wouldn't we know that?"

Osten nods, remembering that. Eadlyn sighs as Ahren takes a seat at her desk. Kaden looks up at the ceiling, thinking of possibilities.

That goes on for another five minutes.

Kaden sits up and takes the camera. He looks at the series of photos again, being conscious to analyze every detail and make sure not to miss even the slightest (even if it ends up being completely irrelevant to the mystery). Osten, Eadlyn, and Ahren gather around their brother and peek over his shoulders.

"Maybe it means something special," Kaden starts, "you know, something that nobody can know about. Not even us."

"But I want to know," Osten whines.

"Me too," Eadlyn and Ahren add, not sounding as desperate.

Kaden sighs. "Or maybe it means the unspeakable."

"Like what?" Eadlyn and Ahren ask cautiously, looking at each other in pure fear of what their brother claims as the _unspeakable_.

Kaden shrugs. "You tell me. I'm only twelve."

The twins hesitate, nudging at each other to take on this topic to a curious Kaden and a listening Osten. There was a reason the _unspeakable_ went by that term - so nobody would speak about it. Eadlyn and Ahren shake their heads, choosing to remain silent about that and leave it as unspoken.

"Moving on..." Ahren mutters awkwardly with a little voice crack. He clears his throat. "Maybe ear tugging is similar to a letter I wrote to Camille."

"I don't see a postage stamp on their ears," Osten says, needing the camera to verify that fact.

Ahren facepalms. "Not a physical similarity, Osten, a metaphorical one." He takes a breath. "Maybe it's a non-verbal gesture of love."

The siblings all nod in agreement. That explanation seemed the most plausible since their parents' expressions in the pictures always had passion - well, their faces always did when the other was involved.

"Okay," Eadlyn says, "now that is solved. Osten, put dad's camera back where you found it. Carefully."

The Schreave siblings exit Eadlyn's bedroom where they run into Marlee.

"Miss. Marlee!" Osten exclaims, getting her attention.

The other kids try calling their brother back but he's already running up to her. Osten shows Marlee the same photos and Marlee gasps in pure awe. The others join him and Marlee.

"These photos are so cute!" Marlee exclaims, taking the camera for herself to get a better look.

"Miss. Marlee, what does the ear tugging mean?!" Osten pleads, tugging on the skirt of her dress. "I need to know!"

Marlee laughs a little as she thinks back to all those years that have gone by. "When your parents were in their Selection, the gesture of ear tugging was used for when they needed to talk to each other. In private. It was so your father's favoritism towards your mother wouldn't stand out and make the other girls suspicious or envious - even though they were only platonic when this started. I had no idea they still do this to this day."

Eadlyn, Ahren, and Kaden smile at the new knowledge. Osten, on-the-other-hand, just blinks with despair on his face.

"That's it?!" Osten yells. "That's all it means?!"

* * *

 **I'm sorry to all you youngsters out there who do not understand, but I am not explaining to you what the _unspeakable_ is.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- a little self-promo never hurt anyone.**


	39. Photo 39: Kiss the Pain Away (SP)

**Important news at the end of the chapter even though by the title of this chapter, you all probably already know what's coming.**

* * *

Photo #39: Kiss the Pain Away

Eadlyn knows that by the time Osten was born, her parents have given up on their parenting styles. Osten was the more adventurous child in the way that he wasn't afraid of getting into trouble. In fact, he liked doing dangerous acts around the palace. He loved that sense of thrill and excitement.

The palace was Osten's playground, and sometimes that should've tightened the reins his parents had for him.

The next picture shows Osten who just finished crying, sitting on the bottom stair step. He wipes his eyes as he sticks his leg out with his pant leg rolled up just above the knee, revealing a cut of some sorts. Eadlyn feels her heart swell as she looks at that photo. What makes her smile is that Osten's hurt leg is resting on his mom's thighs as she kneels in front of him, looking down at the red mark with utter love and tenderness - as if she had the powers to heal it herself.

-o-

"Osten!" A nanny yells from across the palace, her scream echoing in the empty hall.

Osten scurries off at top-speed, away from nanny-number-he-lost-count-after-five. He runs down a hallway and makes a quick turn around the corner and forgot about the lengthy carpet on the floor. Osten trips on the corner and falls, sliding across said carpet and tearing his pants. Osten rolls along the floor, feeling fine except for a burning sensation on one of his knees.

"Osten!" America exclaims, running over to him.

She picks him up and carries him, walking as fast as she can and constantly doting on him. Osten cries a little from the pain.

"Mommy, my knee hurts," Osten says, sniffling.

"Hush, baby, mommy's here."

America seats Osten on the nearby staircase as she calls for Maxon to help her. Osten tears up as America begins to roll up his pant leg slowly and carefully. Osten tenses up at the sight of a red carpet burn that he got hints of from the tear in his pants. He looks away as America preps his injured leg on her kneeling one.

"Don't worry, my baby, it'll be okay..." America whispers.

Maxon comes running over and hands America a small first aid kit. The two of them have working nurses and doctors in the palace but they prefer to help their kids with the small bodily problems. Maxon passes America the kit as he stands behind her with his camera.

"Osten, look over here," Maxon says encouragingly, pointing the camera at his youngest son.

From the lens, he sees Osten wiping his tears as he looks at his father. America gives Maxon a face which wants to know what he's doing. Osten doesn't smile and America wrinkles her face in pure confusion.

"What are you doing?" America asks him.

"Nobody cries on camera," Maxon explains to her, focusing the camera on Osten again. "C'mon, Osten, smile!"

Osten doesn't smile but stops crying which is progress. America focuses back on Osten and tends his little wound. Maxon does snap a picture but nobody but him knows.

"What have I told you repeatedly?" Maxon asks Osten as America disinfects his carpet burn.

"No running indoors..." Osten mutters, tensing up more when the cold disinfectant touches his cut. "...the palace isn't a jungle."

America puts a bandaid on Osten's leg and pats it down gently so it won't peel away any time soon. She smiles brightly as Osten warily looks down at his knee. His eyes twinkle a little at the sight of the bandaid designed with firetrucks.

"There you go, my baby," America says, rolling down his pant leg.

America encourages Osten to move his leg but her little boy shakes his head rapidly. She snickers a little to herself. America leans forwards and places a small, gentle kiss on Osten's knee. She then slowly removes his leg from on top of hers. America stands up and holds her hands out for Osten to take, wiggling her fingers. Osten grasps onto her hands and she pulls him up on his feet.

Osten looks down at his knee and realizes that he's a hundred percent fine. He lights up and begins to run off.

"No," Maxon says, swooping Osten up into his arms and spinning him around. His smaller legs continue to move. Maxon turns Osten to face him. "No more running inside."

Osten nods and Maxon puts him back down. Osten walks to the end of the hall, turns a corner, and chooses to run once again. Maxon sighs with a small eye roll.

"Either Osten is getting heavy or I'm simply getting old," Maxon huffs to America, attempting to stretch out his back from when he picked up Osten. "I believe the latter is right."

America laughs as she wraps her arms around her royal husbandness.

"Just tug your ear whenever you're feeling back pain," America whispers to him. "I'll kiss it better."

That's the best placebo in the book - kissing the pain away.

* * *

 **Go check out my Maxmerica one-shot, _Kiss the Pain Away_.**

 **My mother did the thing where she would put a camera in front of my face to stop me from crying. God bless her soul. This goes out to her.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- another kind-of self-promotion chapter but there is still an actual plot.**


	40. Photo 40: The Princess's Choice (SP)

**I HAVE AMAZING NEWS JUST WAIT TILL THE END!**

 **Note: some stuff here may not be accurate to what Kiera Cass has said about this universe and I would've double-checked but I literally wrote this in a grocery store. So this is possibly a slight AU.**

* * *

Photo #40: The Princess's Choice

Based off of history, Eadlyn knows that the heir to the throne must have always been a male. But when she was born, her father changed the rules so that his successor could be his first-born daughter. It wasn't right for someone to be deprived of anything just because of gender (or as Eadlyn says, because of her breasts). Eadlyn was glad she would be next-in-line for the throne. After Illéa made that move, a lot of countries followed and changed their laws of inheritance as well.

The next photo on the wall shows her father sitting on his desk with stacks of letters and papers surrounding his desk. Her mother stands behind him, peering over his shoulders with her hands on them. Both of them with their eyes focused on one letter in particular.

-o-

"This letter is an interesting one," Marlee says, sliding an already-opened envelope across Maxon's desk.

Maxon holds up the envelope and takes out the letter. The stationary is beautiful and once he unfolds the letter, he sees a beautiful hand-written calligraphy set before him. America gasps at the work of art that is penmanship for her eyes to read. She picks up the envelope to see where the letter came from and her jaw almost drops.

"Maxon," America says softly, "this letter came from the monarchy in Africa."

"I know," Maxon replies, in complete shock.

The two of them thoroughly read the letter, taking in each and every nearly written word. Each of the words looking like a graceful loop across the paper - not one slight mistake in sight (and it was written by the princess herself, not her staff).

"Wow..." America and Maxon say in sync with each other.

"What does the letter say?" A curious Marlee asks, holding up the camera to take a photo of them for the papers.

"It's from the Princess," Maxon says. "Her country has changed the laws of inheritance after we did for Eadlyn. She's going to inherit the throne sometime after her father once she finds a husband from her very own and upcoming Selection."

Marlee claps a little out of pure joy.

"She wrote us a letter telling us the news," America adds. "Princess Iqadi, that's her name, is a bit nervous about going through her Selection. She's never experienced love and the only kind she's seen is through her parents although her mother was not a suitor for her father."

"The idea of suitors scares her," Maxon continues. "They're all pre-determined gentlemen being placed in her palace and one of them will be her husband."

The three of them are smiling brightly, remembering the fond memories from Maxon's Selection as if it was only yesterday. Oh, how the times have passed. They were only adolescents and now they have their own duties, spouses, and kids to care for.

"Princess Iqadi has one problem," Maxon says. "She wants to make everyone happy - her country, her parents, and ultimately herself - in that exact order. She just doesn't know how to make it all work in one man."

"So she wrote that letter for advice?" Marlee asks.

Maxon nods.

"Well, King Maxon," America says playfully, "any advice for the princess?"

Both ladies look at Maxon with raised eyebrows. Maxon knows the pressure of trying to fall in love all while considering all the other factors that play, like his parents and his people. That happened to himself during his own Selection - he loved America, his father didn't, and the people favored Marlee. At the end of the day, he chose America to be his bride and princess and the people adored her. Making that kind of choice is hard because it not only affects your life but everyone else's.

Maxon pulls out a fresh piece of his own stationary to start formulating a response to the princess. America prepares an envelope with the proper postage stamps and Marlee takes a seat on a chair on the other side of Maxon's desk. He gets a pen and takes a breath before starting to write in his best cursive.

"Dear Princess Iqadi," Maxon says as he writes it down. "My palace and I are beyond elated to hear the great news. A Selection is truly a life-changing moment that will only change it for the better. Choosing the right partner is difficult if you don't know _exactly_ who or what you're looking for. Everyone will have their choices and preferences but it's yours that matters the most at the end of the day. You're not only choosing a partner for the throne but a partner for life. If you find a man who pleases your people and your parents, there is no doubt that he will enlighten you as well. Heed my sage advice, Princess Iqadi, accept the opinions of others but do not let them pick for you. It's your choice."

Maxon signs the letter off and passes it to America to put in the envelope. Marlee has her hands to her mouth in pure amazement.

"That was perfect," Marlee says.

"It sure was," America says, lovingly kissing Maxon on the cheek.

* * *

 **GUYS! I HAVE PUBLISHED MY OWN SELECTION-ESQUE FIC (but it's under _The Avengers_ category since it's a part of my current series). You don't need to know _The Avengers_ or that said series to read it. The narrator will explain everything important. And no, just because I mentioned Princess Iqadi doesn't mean the two universes are related in any way.**

 **Go read it: _The Princess's Choice_ \- Being the only child of the King, Princess Iqadi is forced to choose a prince from a group of suitors who not only satisfies her parents and her country but herself.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- It's the holidays!**


	41. Photo 41: Santa Aspen

**MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!**

* * *

Photo #41: Santa Aspen

Like every child in Illéa, Eadlyn and her siblings along with the Woodwork children grew up with the stories of the jolly man in the red suit with all the presents and sleigh pulled by flying reindeer. Every year on Christmas, there was a tradition of leaving Santa all the cookies as possible and boy, there were a lot. Instead of just a plate, they left Santa a whole cart of cookies with assorted flavors and kinds. The kids figured that if they could spoil and fatten Santa, he would be more jolly which would only lead to more presents under the tree and in their stockings.

As of right now, most of the kids in the palace stopped believing in Santa except for two: Osten still left the cookies and milk by the fireplace and Kaden was more on the skeptical side once he attempting to bring rationality in that story.

The next picture actually makes Eadlyn feel jolly inside her, which is odd since she rarely feels that sensation. She and Ahren were about nine-years-old and this photo was taken and it was also the one time Santa visited the royal palace.

-o-

Christmas time was the best time of all in the palace. The palace would be decorated to the extremes - colorful lights would be shining everywhere, wreaths on every door, stockings on the fireplace, maids would be wearing elf hats as Maxon wore a Santa hat, and a fully-dressed tree right at the base of the staircase.

There was just one thing missing to make the Christmas season better but they have found it.

"Kids, come down!" America yells from the bottom of the staircase. "Look who made a visit!"

At once, a snowstorm of footsteps come rushing down the stairs. It was Christmas Eve so the kids only knew one person who would visit them. The kids all stop at the bottom in pure shock as they see Santa Claus in front of them with a giant red sack thrown over his shoulder.

"Ho, ho, ho!" Santa cheers joyfully at them all. "Merry Christmas kids."

All the kids stand in a stunned silence. They knew the stories of Santa but only expected him to be here while they were all sleeping. America, holding a sleeping baby Osten, encourages them to come over. Marlee does the same as Carter and Maxon stand to the side with Lucy.

"Do you have presents in there?" Toddler Kaden asks Santa, pointing timidly in the sack.

Santa leans forwards, looking right into Kaden's eyes as well as the others. He smiles a little as he puts his throws his sack off of his shoulder and places it right in front of the kids. The kids look up with curiosity in their eyes and Santa gestures for them to go look inside. They slowly open it, see an assortment of colorfully-wrapped gifts, and burst into screams of joy.

What was once a clean Christmas setting turned into a mess of wrapping paper and cookie crumbs. All the kids began playing with their toys and with all the sugar from the cookies and possibly sugared milk, they had the energy boost to play for much longer.

Music softly play in the background as the little boys play with their fake swords in an attempt to save Princess Josie and her new unicorn plush toy from the evil stuffed dragon in the middle of them. Eadlyn sticks around Santa, who has his arm linked with Lucy's, asking him endless questions about his life in the North Pole. Marlee and Carter snuggle with each other under a blanket in front of the fireplace while sipping hot chocolate and watching the kids play around. Maxon joins the sword fight with the younger boys which makes America laugh to herself as she holds her baby boy in her arms.

"Maybe you'll be slaying the dragon with them next Christmas," America whispers to Osten as she kisses his forehead.

America lightly touches Osten's cheek with her finger and notices something in his swaddles. With wrinkled eyebrows, she pulls out a small green plant that somehow got in there. America looks at Osten in confusion and shock as he smiles back at her.

"How did you get mistletoe in there?" She asks Osten playfully.

"Who knows," Maxon replies ever-so-casually, appearing out of nowhere to quickly kiss her.

"You are done saving the princess?"

"Our princess fell asleep because we took too long."

All the parents, with the help of Santa and Lucy, all take the kids to bed once they have gotten tired of playing around and fighting dragons. When all that's all done being taken care of, Santa takes off his beard where it is finally revealed that the Santa Claus for this night was Aspen.

"Wow, that was a long night," Aspen says, taking a deep breath. "Who knew Santa had such a hard job?"

"Only you can pull off a fluffy white beard and bright red costume," Carter jokes playfully.

Aspen throws the fake beard at him. Carter happily puts it on and they all laugh.

"I think I ate too many cookies," Aspen says tiredly. "Well, that'll be good for next year since I probably won't be needing any padding under this Santa suit."

* * *

 **Oh, Aspen, if only you knew how much I will eat on Christmas...**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- I'm still in the winter spirit and so are the birds...**


	42. Photo 42: Don't Fly Away

**So I have a _little_ obsession with _Beauty and the Beast_. Well, can you blame me? It's a cinematic masterpiece. Also, I watched it two days ago...**

 **On an unrelated note, it is basically 2 AM where I live and I have a headache while listening to Tinkerbell music.**

* * *

Photo #42: Don't Fly Away

Sometimes, Eadlyn has a more harsh approach when it comes to certain things. That was just the belief she has when it came to the ruling of a country - nobody will ever attack if they were afraid of you. Even though she wasn't exactly brutal, her nice touches were often forced - or _felt_ forced or simply _seemed_ forced. Eadlyn just wasn't the lady who was made out of sugar and spice.

The next photo on the wall is a shot taken high from above although Eadlyn could still distinguish who is in the photo and what they're doing. It has her mother and a younger version of herself. On a snowy day, they were feeding birds in the courtyard.

She didn't know her father caught a picture of it but then again, the same goes for a large portion of these photos...

-o-

Maxon huffs in exhaustion at all the paperwork on his desk. He puts down his stationary and places his hands on his throbbing temples in an attempt to massage the stress away.

"Why don't you step outside, your Majesty," a butler suggests, refilling Maxon's coffee mug. "The chilly breeze may relax you."

"You know what," Maxon replies, "that is an excellent idea."

Maxon pushes his chair away from his desk to get up. He strides over to the balcony and opens the door. The breeze flies in all at once and he has never been so thankful for the invention of paperweights to deal with his papers that rest on his desk behind him. He closes the doors behind him as he steps out on the balcony, hugging himself in order to keep warm on this cold, winter day.

He looks down and sees the flaming red hair of his beautiful wife in the courtyard below with their little daughter bouncing around in the deep snow that probably goes up to her knees.

"Eadlyn, look!" America whisper-screams, grabbing Eadlyn close to her.

America rests her hands on Eadlyn's shoulders. Her head is beside her daughter's as she stretches one arm out to point at what's ahead of her. Eadlyn looks down and sees a family of colorful birds hopping delicately on the crystal-like snow. Eadlyn's eyes and mouth open in amazement.

"Mommy, they're so pretty," Eadlyn whispers.

"Here, I have something for you," America says.

America reaches into her jacket's pocket and pulls out a handful of a variety of bird seeds. She pours them into Eadlyn's mittened hands. Eadlyn steps forwards a bit, towards the birds. She kneels down and shoves her hands towards the birds. The birds fly away from fear and regroup again a few feet away.

"No..." Little Eadlyn cries to them. "Don't fly away..."

America laughs a little to herself as she shakes her head. Eadlyn does the same thing again and America smiles at Eadlyn's innocence. She approaches her daughter to pause her feeding of the birds and crouches down beside her. America pours a bit more bird seeds in Eadlyn's hands and some she makes into a small trail in the snow. She cups Eadlyn's hands into her own and cranes them forwards, gently out towards the family of rainbow birds.

The birds nestle on the trail, slowly munching on the seeds that rest on top of the snow. One sees a pile of seeds in Eadlyn's hands and hops right in. Eadlyn lights up with joy, calmly, to avoid scaring the bird away. America smiles brightly as she scoops some bird seeds into her own hands and obtains her own bird.

Once the birds are done munching on seeds, America opens her hands and releases the bird high into the sky. The remaining seeds in her hands fall into the snow and America watches her birds fly away with a gleaming sparkle in her eyes.

Eadlyn looks at the birds in her hands and is hesitant on letting them free. She takes a breath and lifts her hands up. She opens her hands and gives the birds the opportunity to fly away which they do, whistling and tweeting their lovely songs as they depart.

"Mommy, where do the birds go?" Eadlyn asks, watching the birds fly off until she can no longer see them.

"The birds go wherever their wings take them," America replies. "The sky's the limit for them."

Eadlyn watches the birds fly off with a little hope and excitement in her eyes. She opens her arms out wide and begins waving up and down as if she was a bird herself, hopping like she was flying. America quickly lunges forwards and grabs Eadlyn by the waist, picking her up and swinging her around uo to the point where she stops because she's dizzy. Eadlyn laughs loudly as America puts her daughter back on the ground again.

"Don't you fly away from me," America says to Eadlyn. "At least, not yet..."

* * *

 **Get it? "Don't Fly Away" applies literally to Maxon's paperwork and the birds and metaphorically to Eadlyn growing up. See? I'm more than just a pretty face.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- the clock will soon strike twelve...**


	43. Photo 43: Just a Few More Minutes

**THANK YOU ALL FOR 100 REVIEWS! BLESS YOU ALL FOR THE NEW YEAR!**

* * *

Photo #43: Just a Few More Minutes

New Years is the time of year where everyone says they'll change and be a new person but that ends up never happening. A new year only brings the same person through a new set of days; and it all goes by so fast. Just when you'd think it started, the year is nearly completed.

New Years is a moment of magic and fireworks - where the world erupts in cheers and colors.

Eadlyn isn't surprised when she sees the next photo. It's a picture of her parents in their youth on New Years Eve - early in their marriage. Her mother holds the camera and plants a kiss on her half-asleep father's lips. Eadlyn isn't surprised at the kissing on this occasion but she expected the roles to be swapped since it would usually be her father initiating the kissing.

-o-

"C'mon, Maxon," America says, nudging him awake. "Just a few more minutes. You can do this."

Maxon flutters his eyes open, looking at the excitement on his wife's face. The two of them nestled on the couch in a shared quilt and comfortable clothing, watching Gavril Fadaye from _The Report_ countdown the moments till the New Year. In front of them is a half-filled opened bottle of champagne and two glasses with a half-eaten fondue set in front of them.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Maxon says even though he clearly isn't. He ends up closing his eyes again because of exhaustion. In his defense, a years worth of paperwork that came with being king really takes a toll on fatigue.

Maxon rests his tired head on her shoulder and uses America's long hair as a blanket. America keeps her eyes glued to the tv screen, listening to Gavril recap the year for them. A good part of them were about her and Maxon which only made her smile and think about how fast time has gone for her in general. Half of the events surprise her, having thought they happened ages ago and not mere months. It felt like only yesterday she was a Five in Carolina and now she was the Queen in a soon-to-be-casteless country.

America smiles to herself, taking a sip of her champagne and patting Maxon's leg as he naps on her. She couldn't have asked for a better year and a better one to come.

It was just the two of them tonight. Marlee and Carter were spending it with their familes outside of Angeles. The palace staff has been granted the night off, with the exception of a few guards and others who had no family but each other; so they remained in the palace. Maxon allowed them to be in civvies and have some champagne and appetizers to enjoy themselves as well. If him and America needed something, they catered to themselves.

"This is it, everyone!" Gavril announces with his shining expression on the tv. "The final seconds of the year!"

"Maxon!" America exclaims, slapping his chest.

"I'm awake!" Maxon replies, quickly taking a sip of her champagne as a little boost of energy (jokes on him since alcohol is actually a depressant and will only increase fatigue).

The two of them hold each other closely, counting down each and every second, tightening their grip as the numbers get smaller and smaller. The moment it hits zero, Maxon and America cheer as fireworks begin to explode outside all over the sky. The bright and colorful lights illuminate through the window and into their bedroom.

"Happy New Year!" America exclaims with the brightest smile on her face.

"Happy New Year, my dear," Maxon replies with a yawn halfway through.

America goes in to kiss him, taking a picture of it with Maxon's camera herself. Maxon holds her face in his hands as he kisses her back passionately.

"I promise this year will be amazing," Maxon whispers to her.

"You do?" America questions back softly. "And if it isn't?"

"I'm the king, I'll command for it to be nothing else but great."

"With politics aside, what should we do this year?"

He shrugs. "Any ideas?"

She smiles. "I have plenty."

"Let's discuss them tomorrow. We have 365 days to make so many wonderful memories and complete your bucketlist."

Maxon yawns and gives her another kiss. He shifts his position beside America and lies down in her lap to fall asleep again. America laughs a little to herself, fixing their quilt so it covers him mostly. She begins humming a lullaby while combing her fingers through his soft, blond hair.

Though one is asleep, both of them are enjoying this silent start to the New Year just as Illéa celebrates joyfully outside the palace walls.

* * *

 **I want a sleeping Maxon Schreave to cuddle on New Years.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- a little walk down the runway never hurt anyone...**


	44. Photo 44: Illéa's Next Top Model

**Did I forget about this story? (Maybe) But that's because I am currently writing three other stories, have two literally being in the works as we speak, and maybe twenty being planned in my head.**

 **Guys, one of my New Years Resolution this year for my fanfics is to try my absolute hardest to write longer chapters.**

 **Anj0921 , you gave me this idea so freaking long ago and you most likely don't remember but nevertheless, this came from you.**

* * *

Photo #44: Illéa's Next Top Model

Eadlyn has already clarified that her mother was a fashion icon for everyone. She can dress professionally, elegantly, and casual all in one outfit. She could even make bottoms as rustic as jeans work for a dress-only gala. Even with her red hair, which most would say is the hardest to work with for clothes, her mother pulled off every single color.

With that in mind, fashion designers from all around the world would use this to their advantage. Since they finally had a woman who could make a trash bag the next new trend, the sky was the limit to them when it came to designing. They could throw a multitude of colors, fabrics, accessories and even if Queen America said she didn't like the outfit they made, they was no denying that she still looked amazing in it. Even King Maxon would say she looked beautiful (then again, Eadlyn knew that even if her mother _was_ in fact wearing an actual trash bag, that wouldn't stop her father from swooning).

The next photo on the wall comes with a series of snapshots. Each of them of her mother in a series of different dresses, all of them extravagant designs and colors. Her mother strikes a pose in each photo, as if she was a model on the runway. What confuses Eadlyn is that behind her mother in each of the photo stands Ms. Marlee, Mr. Woodwork, Mr. Ledger, and Ms. Lucy - each of them holding a white board. What's written on the boards is blurry and Eadlyn doesn't know whether or not she reads a number.

-o-

"Look at what came for you!" Marlee cheers, marching into America's room with a box in her hands.

Marlee places the clean, white parcel on America's bed, where she is currently sitting. She opens the package and America crawls over, excited for whatever contents may be inside. Marlee pulls out dresses by the handful - all ranging from casual to ball gown. America gasps as she puts the various fabrics and colors on her face.

"I love them!" America exclaims.

"You'll love these too, my lady," Lucy says.

Lucy, along with Maxon, Carter, and Aspen enter the room with a box identical to the one Marlee had with her. All of them with loads and loads of outfits just for her. America feels spoiled but a bit of her doesn't mind that feeling at all.

"How will I ever choose which of these I like and don't like?" America asks. There are so many outfits set before her that she wouldn't want to waste her time with the ones she would never spare a single thought to.

"I have an idea!" Marlee exclaims. "It's a bit odd yet fun and Lucy and I want to see the dresses. Maxon, get your camera."

Later, in the foyer of the castle, Marlee, Aspen, Carter, and Lucy sit in a row of chairs, each with a pile of white boards on their laps. Maxon walks in front of them with his camera. All of them desperately waiting for America to come walking out in the first dress.

"Are you ready?" America calls from the top of the staircase.

"Ready when you are," Maxon calls back.

America appears on the top of the staircase. She strikes a pose in a long, satin, royal blue dress with a cluster of silver jewels in the hip. America sashays down the staircase, swaying her hips back and forth. She strikes a pose at the botton and is greeted with cheers from her friends on the sidelines and flashes from Maxon's camera. Her friends all hold up boards with the number 10 written in bold permanent marker.

"Fit for a queen!" Carter exclaims.

"My Lady, you look stunning!" Lucy adds.

America runs back up the staircase to change into another dress. She comes out minutes later in a ball gown that has a deep red bodice and that fades into an ombre effect as it goes down the skirt. Maxon still snaps pictures but the scores vary on this one - most high and one low.

"It seems like your hair is a part of the dress," Aspen comments.

"Then she can just wear her hair up," Marlee says as if that was a given option. "For example, she can pair it with a bun."

"And a necklace with matching earrings," Lucy adds. Marlee nods her head, high-giving Lucy for the support of saying that this dress is amazing..

America looks at Maxon as the four of them continue to bicker over whether the dress is great or not. Maxon just gestures for America to change into the next one as he joins their debate (he personally liked the dress).

The next dress has America already cringing as she drags her feet across the top of the staircase. Her head is lowered as she walks down the staircase slowly as if she was ashamed to be in the dress. Everyone else cringes, even Maxon, but that doesn't stop him from taking pictures. The dress was a light brown with a knee-high skirt and poofy sleeves. The downside of this dress is that the skirt and sleeves were entirely covered in fringe.

"That dress looks familiar..." Carter mutters, still holding up a low score. Everyone turns to him wondering what kind of memory was provoked by an atrocious dress. "I've seen something like it in those Western flicks..."

"Cowboys!" Aspen exclaims.

America rolls her eyes at their amusement. She spins around in the dress with open arms to get the fringe flying - which frankly, was the _only_ thing she liked about the dress.

After hours upon hours of trying on dresses, the ones that were already modeled were divided into the following piles: Definitely, Save for a Rainy Day, Different Opinion on a Different Day, Reserved for Marlee/Lucy, and Bye!

"This better be the last dress," Maxon says, taking a breath as if the modeling was taking a toll on his physical health when in reality he was just pushing a button on his camera. "My camera is almost out of film."

"This is enjoyable," Marlee says happily, "it's like being at a real fashion show. I mean, look, we're the judges/audience, Maxon's the photographer, and America's our model."

Everyone takes that into consideration and nods their heads, seeing how much sense that makes.

America approaches the top of the staircase for the final dress of the show. She wears a proud smile on her face as she makes her way down. From the last step, she hops onto the ground and stands in the front and center of them, posing like a doll from the early forties with a pearly smile and teacup-like folded hands.

Her dress was a mix of vintage and Asian culture. The form of the took after the forties (hence America's pose) with a structured cupcake skirt that stops at her ankles and a simple bodice and white collar. The design, however, took the Asian route. The bodice was a solid white that slowly faded into a soft pink skirt that's decorated with Japanese cherry blossoms.

Everyone is left speechless, except Maxon's camera which takes pictures until the film ran out. America looks at her judges whose jaws all hit the floor in amazement and awe. Carter holds up his sign which has the number ten with an emphasized plus sign beside it, Marlee's has a heart with a happy face in it, Aspen drew explosions around his 10, and Lucy drew the infinity sign.

America claps her hands together in joy as she takes a spin in the dress.

"Well, we have our showstopper!" She exclaims, running back up the stairs to change back into the clothes she was wearing before all this happened.

"Who knew flowers were so pretty," Maxon says, still dazed from that last dress - or the whole show in general.

"I did," Carter replies, "but that's only because I work in the gardens."

"So, which dress do you think she'll wear to the upcoming gala?" Lucy questions.

Though that last dress was a definite favorite within the five of them, they all said a different dress for America to wear at the upcoming gala. That caused them to have another debate, arguing pros and cons for why their dress should be worn and not the others. They mention the guests who will be attending, the time of year, the theme, and much more to support their argument.

America, hearing everything from upstairs, sighs to herself with a smile. She would walk away but she decides to eavesdrop to see who could sway her (although she personally picks the last dress to wear).

* * *

 **I had loads of fun writing this chapter. This year is off to a good start for this story, I believe.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- The stork's coming!**


	45. Photo 45: The Stork Came Early

**Again, this is another piece of work inspired by the beautiful and wonderful Brittani Louise Taylor. Go check out her vlogs because they always make me happy :)**

* * *

Photo #45: The Stork Came Early

Eadlyn knows the stories of her parents during their youth, how they grew up, and how the were raised (with some details left out for the better). Her mother and father grew up incredibly different from each other but ultimately the same - neither of them having a typical childhood. Her mother was a Five, scraping for money for the family as a musician. Her father had all the money he needed as a One and the Prince of Illéa but he was being sharpened into being the perfect king.

Then they met, fell in love, got married, became the king and queen, and were now the parents of four.

They both grew up fast, needing to take on big roles at such a young age. Despite the arduous tasks, they always found time to poke fun at one another.

The next photo on the wall has her mother pregnant but holding a baby wrapped in swaddles Eadlyn doesn't recognize at first. The first guess that comes to her mind as the identity of the baby is Kile but as she looks closer, she knows that isn't him. Eadlyn tilts her head a little, putting her fingers on the photo and pressing down on it to eliminate the glares and get a better look. Her head pops back when she sees that the baby is not theirs at all but -

-o-

"How was your trip to Spain, your Highness?" A butler asks, taking Maxon's suitcases.

Maxon just arrived from a two-week trip with the Spanish monarchy and government involving their trading affairs involving their international relationship. As of their status in the past, Illéa and Spain were on good terms with each other. In fact, Maxon adored King Carlos, his wife Queen Magdalene, and their two sons. And in return, they loved them as well.

"Wonderful," Maxon replies relaxingly, "thank you for asking. How is my Mrs?"

America was unable to join Maxon on the trip, despite everyone wanting her to go, because she was in the middle of the second trimester of her first pregnancy. She was always tired and going through episodes of morning sickness so a trip overseas wasn't recommended. Maxon didn't want to leave America alone (even though she wouldn't _technically_ be alone because of the palace staff) during her pregnancy in the case that something urgent or even exciting were to happen. In the case that something was to happen, the King and Queen would understand why Maxon would suddenly have to leave since they have two boys themselves and understand pregnancy firsthand.

"She is upstairs in your bedroom," the butler replies. "Should I tell her about your arrival?"

Maxon shakes his head. "I will do that myself."

Maxon begins walking up the stairs towards his bedroom. The idea of seeing his wife for the first time after fourteen days is what energizes him to walk faster, almost run to embrace her and their expectant baby. The hallway is silent and he hears America's singing slowly getting louder with every step he took, swaying slowly to the rhythm of her melodious voice. Oh, how he missed his wife and her singing. He stops at the sudden sound of a baby crying that quickly gets shushed with her song that turns out to be a lullaby the more he listens to the lyrics.

For a moment, he knows that it can't be his baby because America was still pregnant. That means that the baby was Kile...but then Maxon realizes that Carter took Kile outside of Angeles to visit family, he begins sprinting.

There were no other babies in the palace and he knew that.

Without knocking, Maxon bursts through the bedroom door. He sees America standing in front of the window with her back facing him as she sings a soft lullaby to the baby in her arms. Marlee, sitting on the bed, sees a surprised Maxon and waves at him with her bright smile. Maxon looks at Marlee while pointing at America with the most shocked expression on his face, wondering if he is actually seeing this.

 _Could it be possible that his missed the birth of his firstborn child?_ He was already off to a bad start as a father...

America turns only her head around and gives Maxon the calmest and joyous smile ever. Maxon slowly approaches her, cautious of every step he took.

"America..." He's almost nervous to say.

"Hi, Maxon," she greets, almost on the verge of tears. "Want to meet our daughter?"

"Daughter?" Maxon's voice cracks.

America nods her head as she passes him the baby wrapped in pastel yellow swaddles. Maxon carefully takes the baby in his arms, holding it like a fragile vase, and realizes that she's really light - which ultimately makes sense to him since the baby was most likely born premature. America turns around to face him and that's when he notices her baby bump still present. Maxon's eyes alternate back and forth between the baby in his arms and the one that is apparently still in his wife's stomach.

"She has your eyes," America comments, pulling back a bit of the swaddles and showing Maxon what actually turned out to be a baby doll.

Maxon blinks, processing what's _really_ going on. America begins laughing and Marlee joins in. A bit of him is peeved that they just played a practical joke on him but more relieved that he can still witness the birth of his firstborn child.

"I didn't make this baby," Maxon says, tossing it back to America.

"Maxon!" Marlee exclaims in a scolding yet joking tone. "Hold the baby properly."

America hugs Maxon over his shoulders and kisses him on the cheeks as both an apology for the joke and as a welcome back from Spain. He furrows his brows at her and she mockingly pouts her lips before breaking into a goofy grin. She taps his cheek.

"Maxon, I'm sorry," America says to him, "it was just a fun little prank Marlee and I thought of because I was so bored without you. It was even more convenient that Carter came home early with Kile and started crying right when you came in. It just made it all more believable."

Maxon looks at America and hugs her as tight as he could without hurting the baby bump. He puts a hand on the back of her head and she rests in the crook of his neck, loving the feeling of being back in his arms and for him, it was the smell of her perfume he missed so much.

"Oh, by the way, Maxon," America says, "I had a doctors appointment yesterday and as it turns out, we're not going to be having a plastic baby but real twins."

* * *

 **All that stuff about the Spanish monarchy was made up by me, by the way. I didn't use the real current Spanish royals because I was paranoid that they would hunt me down or something.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- a wise being always says to never open Pandora's Box**


	46. Photo 46: America's Box

**I have read all your reviews from the last chapter and it makes me so happy to find out that a lot of you loved the last chapter. All of your requests will be written shortly, I promise. The only reason I'm updating this now is because I'm in class with a supply teacher and no work.**

 **I came up with this idea a long time ago in church. Thank you, God!**

 **Note: I know the most basic details of the story of Pandora's Box but got these details from the Internet just to make sure.**

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Photo #46: America's Box

Eadlyn isn't that big on Greek mythology but the one story she does know is Pandora's Box. She read it one day in The Women's Room and out of all the Greek myths in the compilation of stories, that was one of the myths she remembered. It probably had something to do with the hidden message about man's order versus their willpower that caused that story to stick in her mind al this time.

Pandora's Box was told to have held the world's dangers and nobody was allowed to open it. Nowadays, it was used as an expression for when danger was on the horizon, not literally in relation to a box of some sorts.

One could say that digging into Illéa's secrets was equivalent to opening Pandora's Box.

Eadlyn looks at the next photo and finds her eyes narrowing in a bit of frustration. She has no idea why her father bothered to put it up since it really has nothing to do with her mother except for the fact that her belongings are in it (which is probably why that photo made it on the wall). The photo contained Josie in Eadlyn's parents' room, on her tip-toes with her hands hovering over her mother's jewelry box with excitement in her eyes.

Eadlyn took the photo and tried to use it as evidence for something she saw as a crime but obviously nobody agreed with her.

-o-

Eadlyn, at fifteen-years-old, walks through the halls of the palace. Everything seems the same to her which was something she was very fond of. She loved order and would sometimes consider herself to be a perfectionist. One thing sticks out to her out-of-the-picture though. Usually, the bedroom doors are closed but one is currently opened, her parents' bedroom door.

Eadlyn knows that everyone is currently downstairs. It also can't be a maid because there is no cart in front of the door. Even guards who are on patrol don't check each individual bedroom.

The first thought that comes to Eadlyn's mind is that there's a burglar in there. Eadlyn begins walking on her toes to get a better look at who might be inside. She holds her breath and the moment she nears the door, she peeks her eyes inside to see who's there.

Inside the room, Eadlyn sees a thief; just not the ski-mask type of thief but the Josie Woodwork kind of thief.

Josie, at twelve-years-old, stands on her tiptoes in from of America's dresser either her hands looking through everything. Eadlyn natrows her eyes, wondering when this girl is ever going to learn her lesson after many lectures from everyone about not stealing or as she calls it, 'borrowing' other people's jewelry. She isn't a typical cat burglar since she usually gives what she takes back (just not in the same pristine condition she took it in).

Eadlyn sneaks into the room herself. Josie has yet to see her as she makes her way to her dad's dresser. Eadlyn grabs a hold of her father's camera and focuses it on Josie to take a picture of her current heist.

Finally, Eadlyn can get Josie in _serious_ trouble this time.

The flash on Maxon's camera startles the both of them. Josie jumps in the air and furrows her brows at Eadlyn who only returns the same face.

"What are _you_ doing here?!" The two girls yell at each other. "Me?! No, you!"

Both girls huff and cross their arms, turning their backs to one another. Neither of the two girls getting answers.

"Yeah, well," Josie starts, "I was here first."

That doesn't help her case at all.

"Oh, please," Eadlyn refutes, "I was born first."

That was irrelevant to the case.

"Josie," Eadlyn says, "you can't open that jewelry box."

"Why not?" Josie argues back. "It's not your box either."

Eadlyn wants to slam her own head against the wall. She doesn't understand why Josie's brain can't wrap around a fact as simple as 'don't touch things that don't belong to you without the owner's permission' or to use basic terms, 'no snooping around!'

Eadlyn turns around to face Josie again with a smart trick in her mind as a way to get Josie to disappear from this room.

"Hey, Josie," Eadlyn starts, "have you ever heard the fairytale about Pandora's Jewelry Box?"

Intrugued, Josie turns around and shakes her head. Eadlyn knows that it's not a fairytale nor is it about a jewelry box but if she told the real story as it was written, Josie (who has the mindset of wanting to be a princess) would have stuck up her nose.

"What fairytale is that?" Josie asks, obviously wanting to know.

"Pandora was a princess who came to her castle with a little jewelry box that was locked," Eadlyn says, obviously modifying the original myth. "She was instructed never to open the box because King Zeus warned her that the contents of the box were the world's worst nightmares. Princess Pandora had to be told many times that the box must remain closed but one day, her curiosity got the best of her and she opened the box. Oh my, the worst of the world flew out of this little jewelry box all at once - sickness, hatred, crime, war, and all sorts of other bad things. These things took the form of bugs and vermin and flew everywhere. Princess Pandora tried to get them all back in the box, regretting her choice to open it in the first place, but it was already too late...the world was plagued."

Eadlyn would give herself a round of applause for that wonderful and believable parody of a classic myth. She looks at Josie, expecting an astounded expression and a sprint out of the room but Josie only blinks.

"I just want pretty jewels," Josie says, "not bugs."

"Josie," Eadlyn responds harshly, kind of disappointed that Josie literally blinked away her story. "That's wasn't the point."

"Kinda sounded like it was."

Eadlyn has no response. All she wanted to prove was that by opening her mother's jewelry box would get her in trouble just like Pandora did to the world. If Josie's head couldn't wrap around simple rules then what chance did it have of understanding an allusion to Greek mythology.

* * *

 **Oh, Eadlyn, you tried. If you think about it, Eadlyn and Josie are the closest they both have to sisters which really made me rethink their relationship.**

 ** _Stay Tuned -_ someone had a little too much to drink...**


	47. Photo 47: A Little Tipsy, My Dear?

**Okay, so, chapters taking place early in their relationship was a requested idea like the wonderful person I am, I will provide you some really cute fluff I had planned to publish another time.  
**

 **Note: I am underaged to be doing anything, if not everything that is mentioned in this chapter so yea. Also, I have more of an explanation at the end since I don't want to spoil anything.**

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Photo #47: A Little Tipsy, My Dear?

Eadlyn knows that as royal figures, they have reputations to handle and a public image to maintain. At all times, they must be and act as proper as possible for the cameras because one tiny flaw will be spoken about for the years to come. Well, the reporter's cameras at least. Her father's camera, on the other hand, is granted unlimited access into the lives of the royals - flaws and all.

Eadlyn has lost track of how many times she's said this but this is the youngest she has seen her mother in any of these pictures. Her skin is as bright as the sun and her hair as freshly picked strawberries - both desirable. However, something about her mother seems more off than usual. She seems kind of droopy but intriguing all at the same time as she looks at the bracelet that's slid down her raised arm. Eadlyn has an idea of what might be going on and since her mother is still so young, her guess is more likely to be the right one.

Eadlyn loves a good glass of wine once in a while but she thinks her mother had one too many during the time that photo was taken.

-o-

Right after the rebel attacks that took away Maxon's parents, he had to take control of the kingdom right away and calm the people down from the sudden chaos; all while healing from a bullet wound himself. Luckily, he had America by his side as his fiancé and she helped him with all the heavy lifting - metaphorically and literally. It took a while to return Illéa close to the way it was before (since it would be nearly impossible for Illéa to be the same after the sudden assassination of their former rulers, especially for him since they were his parents); but when everything was in the clear, Maxon and America finally got married and became the new King and Queen of Illéa.

Illéa was left in the hands of royal officials in order for the young newlyweds to celebrate their honeymoon. They decided to go to some islands located just south of the country who weren't that informed about Illéa so they wouldn't be recognized. It was quiet, which was good considering the loudness they had back home, but silence doesn't always mean there isn't a party.

And sometimes the partying went too far.

Hours after a night out, Maxon finds his partying wife making her way out of the bar late at night. He smiles as she sways around to the fading beat from the music with her head down, bobbing from side-to-side with her arms in the air. The bracelet Maxon got her slides down her wrist and she tries to roll it up and keep it there but it just falls back down to the crook of her elbow.

"Why...won't you stay up?" America asks her bracelet, a bit frustrated as she constantly tries to get it back to her wrist.

Maxon snickers as he takes a picture of his beautiful (and obviously drunk) wife. He causally makes his way over to her.

"A little tipsy, my dear?" He asks out of curtesy, lowering her arms. Her bracelet rolls back down. "See? Now, your bracelet is actually on your wrist."

America looks at him with her head still swaying but tilted a little. All in all, she blinks in confusion at him.

"First off," America starts, pointing a finger at him. She sounds determined, with her feet firmly planted on the ground, but her slightly slurred voice says otherwise. "I am not _your_ dear. And secondly, I am more than just _a little_ tipsy."

"You can say that again," Maxon mutters under his breath.

"And secondly, I am more than just _a little_ tipsy."

Maxon doesn't respond since he didn't expect her to _actually_ say that again. If only he knew what to do with a drunk person...

"Well," Maxon says, trying to figure out what to do with his drunk wife. "Should we head back to our hotel?"

"We?" America says, stretching that words for another ten seconds. It almost sounded as if she was saying yes in French. "Who's _we_? I'm married."

Maxon steps back a bit in confusion as America flashes her engagement ring and matching wedding band. It takes Maxon a second to figure out that his wife is so drunk that she doesn't even know who he is. (He never knew that to be a side-effect). He decides to play along, taking the role of handsome stranger.

"Does this husband of yours treat you like a princess?" Maxon says, taking her arm and walking her back to the hotel.

As they walk, Maxon enjoys the evening sky on the islands as the cool breeze passed by them. Their walks are slower than usual but he's surprised she's still on her feet as a drunk.

"I am more than a princess," America replies. She leans up closer to his ear to whisper, "I am his queen."

Maxon fakes a surprised gasp America quickly shushes him, wrapping her hands around his. Maxon nods his head, quieting down even though he just wants to burst out laughing.

"You're a _queen_?" Maxon asks, almost as if that's a forbidden question.

America nods excitedly, giggling a little. Her red hair blends in with the sunset which contrasts against her bright blue eyes.

"I'm a queen," America states giddily. "I love it - Queen America of Illéa. Bow down to me."

Maxon smiles. He looks at America and sees that she's looking at him expectant. America nods her head and does a quick gesture until he gets the message. Maxon doesn't hesitate but to bow to her as if he's a subject, keeping her hand in his. America beams in pride.

"Now," America says, her free drunk hand tapping his nose. "Tell me, where is your queen?"

Maxon pauses, not sure how to respond to that. He takes a deep breath and sees America anticipating his answer from his peripheral vision.

"Her mind is elsewhere but her heart is close by," Maxon replies, speaking about the drunk woman on his arm who has no idea who he truly is.

"I feel like throwing up." Is America's response.

"Well, that's quite rude."

"No, no, not because of that. What you said is better than whatever poet could muster down with all the inspiration possible. You're a sap, a real sap, but your queen is lucky to have the sweetness that you are in this bitter world."

Maxon looks down at America smiles up at him with her eyes closed. He taps her nose like she's been doing to him and she buries her nose in his arm.

"You said you felt like throwing up," Maxon brings up again just in case that's an actual problem (and to avoid her vomit on his clothes).

"Oh," America says, perking up a little almost as if she didn't even remember saying that just a few moments ago. "Right. I do. My head is kind of spinning and I think my vertigo is about to go."

America stumbles on her next step and Maxon rushes to catch her. She's positioned on her back with his hands supporting her back as he stands above her. America throws her head back and looks at everything ahead of her upside down (which does not help nausea but worsens it).

"Look at me," America says, opening up her arm and whirring around. "I'm a bird flying around upside down trees."

Maxon bursts out laughing and America makes airplane noises even though she just said she was a bird. He pulls her back up and her face is an inch from his. They could almost feel each other's smiles. Maxon leans in to kiss her and she stops him with her hand.

"I told you, I'm married," America says, sparing him a wink.

America turns around and waves to him before prancing down the street in a drunken spirit. Dumbstruck for a bit, Maxon jogs to catch up to her.

"To me!" Maxon yells. "You're married _to me_! You're _my_ drunk queen!"

* * *

 **Believe it or not, I came up with this idea in church. I think being drunk is a sin so I'm going to go pray for forgiveness.  
**

 **I've only written a drunk character once before and I've never been drunk so please forgive me.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- it's only fair we get a drunk Maxon.**


	48. Photo 48: Handsome Hammered Husbandness

**Truth be told, I have a lot more fun updating this story than my other ones.**

 **I've got to say that this is probably my favorite chapter title to date. I don't remember what I said the last one was.**

* * *

Photo #48: Handsome Hammered Husbandness

Even though Eadlyn lives in the castle and is the heir to the throne, there is one place that she is not allowed to venture into (and that's saying someting since there are technically a lot of places she is not allowed to go to). What makes this place different is that she, her brothers, and even the Woodwork kids are prohibited from even going near this place. That place is her father's liquor cabinet.

Her father is no alcoholic but just like herself, he appreciates a glass of the finest wine from time to time. He was a prince so he would often receive bottles of wine as gifts, even when he was underaged. For many years, those bottles have been sitting in that cabinet in her father's office, getting better with age as he did.

It would be rare for her father to even open a bottle unless it was an occasion to celebrate - at least, that she knows of.

Eadlyn almost snorts a laugh at the next photo, despite her aching spirit. Beside the photo of her drunk mother is a picture of her father who was very young. He seemed unbalanced with his shirt buttoned wrong and he's pointing straight into the camera. Of course, there had to be a photo of her drunk father right next to her drunk mother. It only makes their marriage more fun and spontaneous under their crowns.

-o-

Early in King Maxon's reign, the workload was a lot. He had to handle the aftermath of the recent rebel attack, the death of his parents, his current reign and so much more paperwork. Maxon had to get it all done before settling down and getting married. He only wanted to start his marrie life with no worries whatsoever. His fiancé, America, offered to help along with many advisors but Maxon dismissed them. He wanted to do this all on his own, especially the planning of the memorial and funeral for his parents.

Maxon knew that when he would be King (which he technically was now even if his coronation hasn't happened yet), he would get a workload like this. He just didn't know how his father was able to manage this while his mother remained so calm. He listened a lot to his father's lessons but still wishes he paid more attention.

God, if only his parents were here right now.

Maxon runs his hands through his hair. He looks at his fingers, grateful that he isn't already balding in his early twenties.

He wants to scream or cry - whichever came first. The former did. He undid the collar on his shirt to give him the ability to improve his breathing. He unbuttons his sleeves and rolls them up to the crook of his elbow. He paces around his pile of paperwork, wondering which arduous conflict he should tackle next. The value of importance each issue had varied and whatever was the highest would usually be debated on by him and his advisers. The only problem with that is he is the only one in the room.

"That's it!" Maxon exclaims in his office, throwing his arms in the air. "I can't take this anymore."

Maxon makes his way to the window and looks outside, popping it open a little. The breeze tickles his crossed arms, making goosebumps appear which he harshly rubs them away. He turns away from the window, props his hands flat on the free space of his desk that he could find. Then he throws his head down, feeling the change in pressure drastically. When he stands up straight once again, he takes a sharp breath.

Maxon turns his head and sees the cabinet of aged wine and for a moment, he heard it calling out to him. He isn't sure if it's the fatigue or a side-effect of stress, but he hears something. Maxon opens the cabinet door and the whiff strikes him as something homey and rustic, though the bottles are crystal with finely-pressed labels. Maxon was no alcoholic nor did he ever plan to be one. Sometimes, a man's just got to drink something to numb the stress. Maxon pulls out the first bottle and pops it open. Never did he think that such a simple noise would satisfy him so much.

Moments after, Maxon's office door opens and he stumbles against the doorframe. After being alone in there with a bottle of scotch, he actually feels more alive.

He turns his head and sees a bobbing red puffball bouncing towards him. Actually, that's wrong. The puffball wasn't bouncing because his head was bobbing up and down. When the puffball comes closer, he sees America and he points right at her with a grin and a little cheeky laugh.

"Maxon...?" America questions oddly. With her husband's camera around her neck, since she was taking pictures in the garden, she snaps a photo of her strange husband just in case he was to deny this moment ever happening. "Are you okay?"

"My darling!" Maxon exclaims, opening his arms wide before throwing himself into her arms. "My beautiful, _beautiful_ darling!"

"Hi..." America says, rubbing circles on his back. "It's great to see you outside of you - " she cuts herself off when she smells something on him that wasn't his cologne " - are you drunk?"

"Of course I am!" Maxon exclaims, breaking from her arms and struggling to keep balanced on his feet. He puts his hands on his temple. "I am a young man who's now an orphan with a country to run. I can't do this without a bottle."

Maxon screams a cry as he falls on his knees. He hugs America's knees and cries into her sweater, blowing his nose on the wool which she cringes greatly at. America scrunches her sleeves in her fists before relaxing her hands and rubbing Maxon's shoulders. She stretches her neck to look inside his office and sees a half-empty bottle of scotch on his crowded desk.

"A big bottle..." America mutters under her breath. She takes a breath. "Well, Maxon, I don't know what to say other than this is all your fault."

"My fault?!" Maxon screams, getting back on his feet. He almost falls back but quickly regains himself. " _My fault_?! I have so much work on my shoulders and needed to get it all off. Blame that cabinet which now needs a lock. The scotch was speaking to me, America. It's voice was so hypnotizing and alluring, kind of like a siren or those mystics. It knew how to help me and now I feel no pain."

America wrinkles her eyebrows in confusion at the last part of what Maxon said, trying to make sense of it all. She shakes her head, discarding the drunk crap her husband said.

"Yes!" America yells at him. "This is all _your_ fault!"

She jabs a finger into his chest to emphasize her point. Maxon, still surprised, takes a few breaths as he shakes her head. She would guess that he's angry at her for putting the blame on him but he's drunk so she can't tell.

"Maxon," America starts calmly, "you wanted to all this alone even though we all offered. You're new at being the ruler and with all this grief in your heart, there was no way you could manage this all on your own. You have all the help you need. You have your advisors and not to mention me! Your damn fiancé! I'm going to rule _with_ you! Goddammit, Maxon Schreave..."

"America Singer - !" He yells back.

"You're drunk, my handsome hammered husbandness!"

"Yeah, well, you're - "

America tilts her head up with her mouth open a little as she waits for him to finish that thought. Maxon, fuming, simmers down as he tries to think over what America said, despite the slight nausea the alcohol gave him. He looks at America and she sees his face soften.

"You're right..." Maxon mutters as the alcohol overpowering his body causes him to cry. "I have you. I've always had you. And to think that I've always feared pushing you away and it's happening again. I just - I didn't want you to handle all of that and think it was too much or too stressful."

"Oh, Maxon..." America coos. "The only thing that's too much is all the scotch you drank."

"Kiss me, darling."

Maxon flings himself at her but she stops, holding him back and resisting him even though he was stronger and winning. America finally pushes herself off with a little laughter escaping her mouth.

"I'll kiss you when you're sober," she tells him, entering his office and closing the bottle of scotch.

"You're so good to me, America," Maxon, now droopy says to her. "I don't know how I ever deserved you."

America nods, taking his arm and leading him to their bedroom so he can take a nap.

"You, my darling, are the best thing that has ever happened to me," Maxon continues. "The best. I can't fathom to imagine a world without you in it."

America smiles. She loves how her husband is so much more sentimental when drunk. What more for the hangover he's going to have.

* * *

 **I did not expect this chapter to be this long but hey, long chapters and a drunk Maxon is what we all want.**

 _ **Stay Tuned**_ **\- might want to plug your ears for the next one...**


	49. Photo 49: The Schreave Quartet

**This is another one of my church ideas.**

 **Copyright: The Flintstones (because I can't write songs by myself)**

* * *

Photo #49: The Schreave Quartet

There are people out there who can speak several languages. Eadlyn's mother is a linguist in the way notes flow with each other. She could play the piano and violin all while singing with her equally harmonious voice. It was a rare talent to be able to sing and play an instrument at the same time but her mother was able to do so.

Eadlyn knows that before her mother became the queen of Illéa, she was a musician in Carolina. If the castes still existed, she would've been a Five which equaled being an artist. You'd think that with four kids at least one of them would be a musician. Mathematically speaking, there was a 25% chance of one of them being musical but the slim chances ceased to be true. None of the Schreave kids were musicians - but that didn't stop them from at least trying.

The next photo on the wall shows a band that never became true (which for Illéa's sake, is better that way). Eadlyn and her siblings tried to be a band but that failed.

-o-

"Happy anniversary, my dear," Maxon whispers, waking America up with a series of small kisses all over her face and neck.

America smiles, half-asleep, loving to be woken up by her kissing husband. She brings the sheets up to her nose and stays in the warmth of the quilt before opening her blue eyes at her husband. Maxon sees her eyes smiling and kisses her forehead.

"Happy anniversary," America whispers back.

The two of them nestle in close with each other, planning to just spend the day with each other in bed. They tend to try to do this on their wedding anniversary, their birthdays, holidays, Sunday mornings, rainy or cloudy mornings, and basically every morning possible. It was hard to follow that plan when ruling a country and raising four kids at the same time.

Speaking of their four kids, they all burst into the room, causing Maxon and America to shoot up out of bed. When the two of them see their kids, they ease away the tension. America holds her racing heart as Maxon holds her.

"Morning, kids," Maxon greets them, settling down from the slight scare.

"Happy anniversary, mom and dad!" The four of them exclaim.

Maxon and America beam in gratitude for they thought their kids didn't know the importance of today. But if all of Illéa knew due to the extensive media coverage and programs dedicated towards the two of them today, then of course their own kids would know. The castle was probably buzzing.

From what they thought was breakfast in bed in their kids' hands, it was actually a set of musical instruments. Eadlyn stands behind a keyboard, Ahren holds a guitar, Kaden has a solo drum hanging from his neck, and Osten holds a tambourin. America smiles at the idea that she believes to be going on. Maxon, on the other hand, simply smiles since he knows his kids are no musical prodogies.

"What are you kids up to?" America asks out of curtesy.

"We're going to perform a song for you," Osten replies. "But, Ahren didn't write it since he had no lyrics in mind and was busy writing to Camille."

America laughs a little as Ahren shoots his brother a little glare.

America cheers at the thought of her kids being musical for once since she's always wanted a child who could play an instrument. Maxon knows that his kids are no Mozart nor are tney even close to being America on the musical scale (no pun intended). America knows that fact too but whenever she sees any of the kids carrying an instrument or a tune, she gets excited. Maxon does, however, appreciate the gesture and gift for this occasion and even snaps a picture of his little Schreave Quartet to remember it all.

Eadlyn counts her borthers in and they all start playing their instruments. They're out-of-tune and some are at a tempo ahead of others but America still smiles happily.

"Mommy told me something a little kid should know," Eadlyn begins singing, "it's all about the devil and I've learned to hate him so. She said he causes trouble when you let him in the room. He will never ever leave you if your heart is filled with gloom."

"So let the sun shine in Face it with a grin," Ahren continues, steumming a chords that almost sounded right. "Smilers never lose and frowners never win. So let the sun shine in. Face it with a grin. Open up your heart and let the sun shine in."

During an instrumental part, Maxon can't help but smile himself. Though they sound bad, he loves to watch his kids do anything. Underneath the blankets, he squeezes America's hand tightly.

"When you are unhappy, the devil wears a grin," Kaden sings next. "But oh, he starts to running when the light comes pouring in. I know he'll be unhappy 'cause I'll never wear a frown. Maybe if we keep on smiling he'll get tired of hanging 'round."

"If I forget to say my prayers the devil jumps with glee," Osten sings. "But he feels so awful when he sees me on my knees. So if you're full of trouble and you never seem to win, just open up your heart and let the sun shine in."

"So let the sun shine in," all fours kids sing together. "Face it with a grin. Smilers never lose and frowners never win. So let the sun shine in. Face it with a grin. Open up your heart and let the sun shine in."

"Let the sun shine in!" They all chant before hitting that last note, shockingly in sync with each other.

America and Maxon break into applause and cheers, praising and whistling their little musicians. The Schreave Quartet bows. Sure, they weren't exactly Tessa Tamble or even New Direction but they were their own kind of music.

"Bravissimo, my babies!" America exclaims in a sudden Italian accent, getting up out of bed to embrace and kiss her children.

"You kids have an encore?" Maxon asks.

"No," Osten flat-out responds.

"That's the only song we know," Kaden adds.

"Barely!" Eadlyn exclaims. "We _barely_ know how to play this song."

"I'd say we were a one-hit wonder," Ahren mutters.

* * *

 **The actual song is adorable and I sure hope I didn't butcher it by writing it like this.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- I think I'm going to be taking a small break but when I get back there will be romance will be in the air...**


	50. Photo 50: A Thousand Petals

**Happy Valentine's Day!**

 **I sure hope this was worth the wait...**

 **I'm sorry for the long wait but I have many reasons for not updating such as school and getting caught in reading books. Also, this is the Valentine's Day chapter and it would've been kinda weird to _not_ post this on Valentine's Day**

* * *

Photo #50: A Thousand Petals

Eadlyn knows this as a fact: her parents were the relationship goals for a good majority of the country. It was surprising that their love story revolved around a Selection. Out of every eligible girl in the country, her mother was picked and she was the only one who could steal her father's heart. Illéa adored them for such reasons. Despite them being pre-chosen, their love was real; it almost felt as if they fell in love naturally.

They had a perfect public image that displayed their relationship as if it was from a romance novel. Even if the picture in the paper was them doing something as simple as linking arms, holding hands, or just standing next to each other; you could tell that these were two people who truly loved each other.

What remained private, however, was the romance they had with each other inside the palace walls. All the little notes and ear tugging were both actions still being used by them to this very day. (Eadlyn prayed for her mother to wake up so those actions could continue for the years to come).

Eadlyn never expected a romance like theirs when her Selection started but at this point, she didn't think one would ever be as good as theirs. As she looks at the next photo on the wall which has her mother sleeping on a bed of rose petals, she knew their romance was truly one of a kind.

-o-

One early morning, America feels the warm sunshine on her sleeping face. She smiles to herself as she stretches her arms underneath the sheets. America takes a breath and cuts herself off.

Something smells different in her room; something sweet and pleasant, almost citrusy.

America opens her eyes and sees something red in her vision. She blinks a few times, making her eyes adjust to the light, and once it does, she sees that the red isn't her hair but a rose petal. America slowly sits up and sees that she's alone in her bed which is covered in a series of colorful rose petals. Her bed is a rainbow of rose petals; from red to light green to orange to purple. She didn't think that roses could be that colorful but it definitely brings a smile to her face.

"Maxon!" She exclaims excitedly, knowing that this was obviously all his doing.

She turns her head to the side and instantly remembers that he isn't here.

America smiles so bright that it hurts her early-morning cheeks. She bunches up the roses and takes the handful up to her nose. She inhales deeply, taking in their comforting scent before throwing them in the air like confetti. With all the different colors, the petals look like actual confetti.

America slides out of her bed and sees that the petals are scattered all over the floor as well but a distinct trail is made up to the door. America walks gently on it, feeling the silky and velvety petals on her feet.

One of the minute lessons America had to learn during The Selection were the significance of roses. Roses all have different colors which mean that they all have different meanings. America merely thought that they just came in different colors but she was wrong and is now an expert in all things rose-related-botany.

As she looks down, she kicks the petals around for fun. The yellow, orange, and green roses do promote energy and cheerfulness.

When America opens the door, she sees the trail of rose petals continuing into the hallway. (At this point, she knows that Maxon bought all the roses in Illéa). Her excitement just keeps on growing at this point. She takes this time to skip and spin through the trail as if she was walking through an enchanted forest. Even the staircase is decorated and at the bottom, she sees Maxon holding a bouquet for her. America runs down as fast as she can, causing the petals around her to fly in the air. Once she approaches him, she puts his face into her hands and begins kissing him all over his face.

Maxon kisses her back and he picks away the petals that have found residence in her hair. He smiles at his wife's joy which only makes him smile even more. It makes his cheeks hurt but with the good kind of pain.

"Maxon Schreave..." America mutters. "I don't know how you came up with such a stunt but I love it just as much as I love you."

"And there's more..." Maxon mutters.

"Really?" America questions, her voice containing a bit of curiosity and a childlike-excitement. "How much more could there be?"

Maxon pulls out a bouquet of roses behind his back. He hands them to America and she takes them into her hands as if they were the most fragile object on earth. It wasn't just a standard bouquet. Each rose was red but had a different color tip.

"Novelty roses?" America questions, tapping the different colored tips.

"They're very useful, you know," Maxon says. "With the different colors, one could send many messages. Red meaning my deep love for you, pink for admiration or gentleness, white for remembrance, lavender for the eagerness in a relationship's growth, and cream is a simple thanks. I simply couldn't pick just _one_ message for you because I have too many words to say. Hopefully, all these rose petals say enough."

"Oh my god..." America whispers, almost breaking into tears. "Maxon, I have no words for you."

"None?"

"None."

With that, she kisses him again. This time, as her message. When they part, she looks at the roses again and wrinkled her eyebrows a bit at the sight of a rose with its bud still closed. She pries it open with her fingers and stops when she sees a sparkle inside. She pauses. Even though America's not a botanist, she knows that the flower's pollen doesn't sparkle. This time, she opens each petal one at a time and find her eyes widening at the sight of a diamond necklace.

"Maxon!" America exclaims. "How did - ?"

Maxon playfully shrugs and America slaps his chest lightly. She snickers as she pulls back her hair and allows him to put the necklace on for her. Once he's done, she lets her hair down and holds onto the necklace. Her eyes meet his again.

"You spoil me," she tells him. It was more of a statement than a complaint.

"You deserve it," he responds.

* * *

 **I'm not going to lie, as much as I would love to receive the standard red roses, I would much rather appreciate a colorful bouquet. And forget the jewelry, just give me a pizza and ice cream.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- Smile!**


	51. Photo 51: Hold That Smile

**To be honest, I have been so caught up in reading great books with equally great music that I haven't been in a mood to write. But seeing that I have a long weekend and this idea did come to me in the middle of the night (and I started typing this in the middle of the night), I might as well just type.**

* * *

Photo #51: Hold That Smile

The Schreaves were not a perfect family for many reasons: they didn't agree on everything, royal duties were sometimes a problem, and most noticeable - they didn't exactly _look_ like a family.

Eadlyn looked like her paternal grandmother who looked nothing like her father; her mother was the only natural redhead in the family; her father was a sandy blond who had three sons with those features. Besides the boys, nobody looked related to one another. But just because none of them shared a consistent resemblance didn't make them less of a family. In fact, their different features and even personalities almost brought out the different parts of their family trees. It reminded them of the past branches that will only bring out their future leaves.

That was the interesting and surprising part of genetics that Eadlyn couldn't wrap her head around. She understood it as a game of chance, almost.

The next photo shows the family portrait being painted where they whole family is standing regal and tall, looking their absolute best. The only lie this photo presents is that they weren't the classy family this photo makes them out to be while the portrait was being painted.

-o-

As far as history goes, Illéan royals always had their portraits painted. Even with the advancements in technology such as the invention of the camera, the royal portrait was always painted. It was a classic tradition that wasn't going to be left in the past any time soon.

Today is the day the Schreaves were getting theirs done. The six of them stand tall and boldly, dressed in their best outfits looking out at the painter behind his canvas. America and Eadlyn were wearing billowing blue ballgown, and the hoys were in sharp tuxedos with complementing ties; Maxon's jacket having badges on the chest folds. In addition, the king and queen wear their crowns. America and Maxon stand in the middle of their kids: Eadlyn beside her mother and Ahren beside his father, and the youngest boys in front of them.

This should be easy for them since they have dine something similar to this for the cameras and television. All of them can stand and hold a smile but the only problem was the time period needed to capture for a camera in comparison to a paintbrush was drastically different.

"That's it," the painter says, holding his hands up to look at the family. He makes his thumb and pointer finger into a square and closes one eye to look through it. He changes the position of his hands as if it was the zoom feature on a camera. "Mow hold it."

It's silent as the painter mixes colors and paints them on the canvas in a series of strokes. The Schreaves stand still together, trying to find something to do to pass the time that doesn't involve moving a lot. All they can really do it roll their eyes up, that is, until the painter flicks his brush at them. So in reality, there's nothing they can do but just stand there.

It's possible for one to stand, but to stand completely still for hours? Impossible.

"Mom..." Eadlyn grits through her teeth. "My cheeks hurt from all this smiling."

"How can it hurt when it's fake?" America mutters back without moving her head.

Eadlyn narrows her eyes at her mom's attitude but returns them back to normal when the painter shoots her a look. She takes a breath before forcing herself to return to the insignificant smile she hates to have on her face.

In the distance, Eadlyn hears someone walking in the hallway. She sees Kile walking by while munching an apple. He looks into the room and laugh, directly at Eadlyn.

"That's the _longest_ time I've seen you smile," Kile says from the doorway, laughing loudly as he marches off.

Despite getting scolded again from the painter, Eadlyn takes the chance to roll her eyes to herself (aimed at Kile). What she wants to do right now is run free from the portrait and chuck that apple at his head as if it was a baseball. Eadlyn knows that even though her mother isn't looking at her, she's being scolded by the angry vibes she feels and will most likely get lectured later.

"My back hurts," Ahren mutters.

When the painter seems to be more focused on the canvas than them, Ahren stretches back and hears his body crack in a way that sounded almost painful. Eadlyn stifles a laugh as his mother sighs.

"Being hunched over your desk for numerous hours straight while writing love letters does that to your back after a while," Maxon says to him, barely moving.

"You're one to talk," Ahren mutters back.

"What I'm doing is much more important for the country than dotting your i's with hearts."

"That's debatable."

"You two shut it right now!" America whisper-screams at the two of them.

America takes a sharp breath underneath the sound of mumbled apologies. All of them were silent. The only noise that could be heard were the soft strokes of a paintbrush against a canvas. America starts humming a song as the others imagine a matching scenario to the tune which only takes thirty seconds of their time.

"Mom, my suit is tight and itchy," Kaden suddenly complains.

"Don't worry, baby," America says, sneaking a hand to rub one of his shoulders. "It'll be over soon."

"But it just started."

"I know." America takes a breath, knowing that there was no point to being comforting in this uncomfortable situation.

"Can I just step out and change my clothes?" Kaden asks. "I doubt I'm even on the canvas yet. Can I just wear my pajamas and be painted in a tuxedo."

"Kaden..." America mutters bitterly, barely moving her mouth.

"Sorry."

America rubs his shoulder again as the silence returns. Everyone breathes, some breaths heavier than others due to annoyance or boredom mixed with fatigue.

"I have to pee," Osten states.

Maxon sighs. "I told you to go before we got here."

"I did go...but then I had some iced tea and now I have to go again."

Maxon doesn't even bother responding at this point. He's just given up with his kids at the moment and wish this portrait would just be done with. He can tell America has given up as well since she has nothing to say to Osten. The two parents glance at each other through their peripheral visions.

"How long has it been?" America asks Maxon.

Maxon huffs a sharp breath. "Barely ten minutes."

America thinks of a few curse words but doesn't say them aloud. Her and Maxon will be fine to stand in each other's presence till the end of time. Their kids, however, are bored and fidgety. Eadlyn has started to pick the seams at the back of her dress, Ahren stared at the painter and decided to count the number of lines on his face, and Kaden and Osten have started making funny faces at each other despite America and Maxon nudging them to stop.

To the kids, their studies were starting to seem more amusing than this. Maxon thinks the same except with his paperwork.

After what feels like an hour even though it's only been five minutes, Marlee quietly walks in the room. She looks at the portrait in-progress and takes a glance at the models. They keep on poking at each other, trying their absolute bests not to move drastically; their faces try to remain happy and professional even though they're all tired and angry; but all return to normal in seconds.

Marlee, with Maxon's camera around her neck, raises the device to her eye and snaps a photo of the family. Just in case the portrait wouldn't be complete because of their restlessness, at least they'll have something on the camera roll to frame.

* * *

 **This is literally me except with school photos.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- time for a jam session and the appearance of an old face.**


	52. Photo 52: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

**Anyways, all the songs used in this chapter will be credited in the end.**

* * *

Photo #52: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun!

Eadlyn has heard about the other women who participated in her father's Selection and has met some of them. One of them who got both was Lady Natalie Luca.

Eadlyn has met Natalie on a few occasions and thought that she was a sweet a fragile lady with a warm heart. She was a woman who has been through the worst in life but always wore a warm smile on her face. Eadlyn has always wondered why someone who has seen what she has is able to keep such a demure that is only so stable.

That was the Natalie that Illéa and Eadlyn knew. This photo on the wall shows a different side to Natalie.

Natalie was in the Women's Room with Eadlyn's mom and Ms. Marlee. They all stand in front of the television with a newrby table filled with plates of delicacies. The three of them seemed to be wearing sweatpants and tank tops with fake tiaras and feather boas. Each with a bottle in their hands and a microphone.

Whatever was happening, this not only shows a different side of Natalie but of the other two women. And it sure looked fun.

-o-

"Natalie!" Marlee exclaims, stretching over the doorway to hug her. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Marlee!" Natalie hugs back, stretching the syllables of Marlee's name as she rocks the hug back and forth. Her eyes look up and she sees that familiar head of red hair. "America!"

"I'm so glad you could make it!" America says, "how have you been?"

"Terrible," Natalie responds. She breaks from the hug to face both America and Marlee and puts a hand to her temple. "Paparazzi are following me everywhere. I knew that was a price to be paid after the Selection which I was fine with at first, especially since it died down. But then it came back up when I just had to tie the knot with Evan Channing, the _dreamiest award-winning celebrity of them all_." Natalie rolls her eyes. "Now that we're divorced, I thought I could just be free from all that unwanted attention but I think it's even worse now."

Natalie sighs.

"If it helps," Marlee says, putting a hand on Natalie's shoulders. "I didn't like much of his movies."

Natalie gives Marlee a weak smile. "Thanks."

"How about I get some food and drinks and we can spend time in the Women's Room?" America suggests. Marlee and Natalie nod. "Great. Meet me there."

"While you're at it..." Natalie says. "Change into something comfortable. Let's ditch our skinny jeans, corsets, and heels and just let loose."

America and Marlee look back at Natalie, skeptical about her proposal. The two of them agree (Marlee lending Natalie some civvies) and they all met in the Women's Room wearing tank tops and sweatpants in different colors. America places some trays of food and drinks on the table with a maid's help. When she takes a seat, Marlee curls up on her corner of the couch as she turns on the television.

The three of them sit through an episode of _The Report_ before changing the channel to a singing competition. When the next contestant walks on stage, their singing was so bad that it made America, Marlee, and Natalie's head jerk back and eyes widen at the impact of the singing that they would better classify as screaming, or better yet, screeching. Marlee ends up turning off the television and the three women appreaciate the silence until their ears stop ringing.

"Wow..." Marlee mutters.

"That was..." Natalie mumbles, looking up to think of the right word.

"Awful," America states. The other two agree. "We can sing better than that."

"Can we?" Natalie asks. "I mean, I'm not questioning our singing ability but can we actually sing _right_ _now_? Let's have a karaoke session."

America and Marlee look at Natalie skeptical at the second idea proposed. Natalie opens her eyes wider along with her smile, persuading the other girls into a jam session. Marlee begins grinning as America nods her head. Natalie cheers as Marlee quickly runs out of the room. As America sets up the television, Natalie pushes the furniture off to the side to make some room, and Marlee returns with some accessories in her hands. She hands Natalie and America a feather boa and a plastic tiara.

"If we're going to sing, we must do so in style," Marlee says, putting a tiara on her head.

"I like your thinking, Marlee," Natalie praises, wrapping the neon blue boa around her neck.

"Here," America says, handing both of them microphones. She puts on her accessories.

"Why do you both have these?" Natalie asks them.

"We're parents," Marlee reponds on behalf of herself and America. "We have kids who play with these."

"Right..." Natalie mutters, remembering that she doesn't have her own kids. (As if she wanted any). "Let's get started."

America plays the music and the Women's Room, which is typically a silent room dedicated to reading and pondering, is now filled with blasting beats and an upswing rhythm. The three women being bopping to the beat, holding their microphones up to their mouths, getting ready to start.

"Some boys take a beautiful girl," Natalie sings.

"And hide her away from the rest of the world," America and Marlee sing next.

"I want to be the one to walk in the sun!" The three of them all sing. "Oh girls they wanna have fun. Oh girls just wanna have fun!"

When that song ends, the three of them cheer loudly, clinking their drinks and laughing when some spills on the floor. America scrolls through the next song selection and has never been more excited when a song she hasn't heard in so long appears on the screen.

"It took all the strength I had not to fall apart," America starts singing. "Kept trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart."

"And I spent, oh, so many nights just feeling sorry for myself," Marlee sings next. "I used to cry but now I hold my head up high."

"And you see me somebody new," Natalie chants, whipping her free arm back and forth in a disco movement. "I'm not that chained-up little person still in love with you."

"And so you felt like dropping in," they all sing, "and just expect me to be free. And now I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me!"

Natalie chugs the rest of her drink in one go. She puts it back on the table and shakes her head wildly, holding her tiara in place so it doesn't fly off. America and Marlee cheer her on.

"Take that, Evan!" Natalie yells.

America and Marlee cheer and jump as if they were at a bar, helping their friend who just had a relationship ended. In reality, that is not far from what really happened.

Meanwhile, Maxon and Carter walk through the palace halls, chatting amongst themselves. It starts out as a light conversation between the two men until they find themselves needing to yell at each other in order to be heard. Finding it odd that the palace sounds like a rock concert, they slowly follow the sound of a growing beat up to the Women's Room. Maxon knocks on the door for politeness but Carter just goes ahead since there's no way the women would've heard the knocking over the music. Scared of what might be inside, Carter slowly oppens the door and him and Maxon peek their heads inside.

The two of them see their wives and Natalie, possibly drunk, swaying back and forth on their feet with the arms swinging around in rhythm to the music. It looks like a fraternity party (if they ever went to one, to be exact). Carter ans Maxon look at each other strangely, Maxon taking a picture before walking away and leaving the women to be. Carter watches for a few more seconds before rushing off.

"I don't tell you what to say," Marlee sings. "I don't tell you what to do."

"So just let me be myself," America continues. "That's all I ask of you."

"I'm young and I love to be young," Natalie sings. "And I'm free and I love to be free."

"To live my life the way I want," they all finish. "To say and do whatever I please!"

These three were grown women: two of them already married, one divorced; one a queen, the queen's attendant, and a jewelry designer. On paper and to the public eye, they were adults but tonight and to themselves, they were just teenagers.

* * *

 **Songs (in order of appearance): _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_ (Cyndi Lauper), _I Will Survive_ (Gloria Gaynor), and _You Don't Own Me_ (Cover by Grace)**

 **Also, I made up the celebrity Natalie married since it was never revealed.**

 **If only I had girls nights like this. Also, if any of you want reunion chapters with Kriss and Elise, then let me know! I'm probably going to write them anyways but let me know if you have any ideas.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- time to redecorate!**


	53. Photo 53: Fifty Shades of May

**Okay, before you claim to be done with me and this story because of this chapter title, allow me to explain. This is possibly my favorite chapter to date. (I don't even remember what I said the last one was)**

 **First, I find it funny since May rhymes with Gray. Second, I'm very eco-friendly and recycled this idea from another story I have planned. Third, I was going to make this chapter title a play on Aunt May but that only made me think of Spider-Man and technically May is already an aunt because of Kenna's kids.**

* * *

Photo #53: Fifty Shades of May

Eadlyn knows that when good news was present in the castle, her Aunt May was always the first one to know. Whether it was by a phone call or a visit, May always had her way of knowing when all the best events were happening. She was present at galas, balls, parties, and even the birth of her nieces and nephews.

One of the reasons Eadlyn wished to have a sister of her own was because she saw the bond her mother had with hers and she wanted to experience that herself. Sure, she has a loving bond with her brothers but it will never be the same relationship she could have with a sister. She wanted someone to talk to about girly things, dress up in ballgowns, and even disagree on fashion choices.

The next photo on the wall shows America and May sitting on her bed, looking through an album of some sorts that Eadlyn can't quite make out. Both of their red heads and blue eyes standing out against the dull background.

It just hit her now: Aunt May...Did someone call her? Did someone tell her about her sister's heart attack?

-o-

"I like the Moonstone," America says, holding a swatch of gray paint against the white wall. She tilts her head and closes one eye, testing that perspective before switching swatches. "Or maybe Zine."

America backs away from the wall and takes a seat on her bed. May is already sitting next to her, flipping through pages of laminated paint swatches in almost every color and shade possible.

"What do you think, May?" America asks, holding a handful of paint swatches in May's face. "What shade of gray?" America laughs a little, bringing a free hand to her mouth to hide her grin. "Heh, that rhymed. May, gray."

"Another word that rhymes is nay," May says, pushing away the gray swatches to decline them.

"Neigh?"

"No, not the horse sound. Nay as in no meaning no gray for May."

"Why not?" America asks. "Look at all these shades of gray. There's pearl, silver mist, moonstone, zine, storm gray and so much more."

May yawns. "Those colors make me sleepy."

"Considering that this is my bedroom, being sleepy is the overall goal." America winks, getting back up to take more swatches on the wall to see which looks best.

May continues flipping through the book of paint swatches, suggesting bright pastel shades instead of America's depressing ones.

"Why gray out of all colors?" May questions, with a hint of disgust towards the color present in her voice. "Are you sad?"

"Of course not," America replies, putting her hands on her hips. "Gray is welcoming and comforting. It's warm and enlightening."

"For a cemetery."

"May!"

"What?" May questions, not seeing anything wrong with her statement. "It's true."

America ends up choosing Moonstone for her room. In a way, she compromises with May's options by agreeing to bright colored linens instead. If the walls were going to unarguably be gray, something needed to be eye-popping.

Now that America's done with changing the walls of her and Maxon's bedroom, she moves on to the furniture. America stands by the door, using her hands to pretend to rearrange the placement of all the accessories. She mutters to herself all her options, wondering where everything will look best. She's no interior designer but she knows what her own room should look like. (At least, she hopes so).

May changes her position from sitting on her sister's bed to kneeling on it. She closes the paint book and set it on the nightside table, watching her sister move it to the side. May observes her sister but loses her train of thought when America calls her name.

"Earth to May!" America exclaims. "You okay? Ha, that rhymed as well. May, okay."

"I'm great," May replies. "Are _you_ okay?"

America looks at her sister strangely. "What are you talking about?"

"Why are you changing your room?" May asks. America doesn't reply, needing an explanation for that question. "Ames, you have maids who change your bedsheets and curtains ever so often without you needing to tell them to. You also have the money and the ability to hire any interior designer in the world. My point being, why are you doing the heavy-lofting."

"I am much more than just a crown. Now, help me with this vanity mirror."

May gets off the bed to help. She pushes the matching chair out of the way for a moment as America puts her hands on one end of the dresser. When May has a grip on her end, they both lift and begin moving the heavy vanity set.

"Are you pregnant?" May asks her sister.

America suddenly drops her end of the set. The shock causes May to do the same with her end. May looks at America whose eyes are stunned and wide open.

"Where did that question come from?" America asks.

May shrugs. "Most women crave food while pregnant and I just had a thought that you crave paint swatches. Also, pregnant women tend to nest and I think we're in the process of remodelling your birds nest. So...are you pregnant?"

America begins to blush. "I am not."

May snickers. "Are you sure?"

America's face is almost as red as her hair. "I am not having this conversation with you."

Suddenly, Maxon walks in the room causing both America and May to go silent. As Maxon looks around his under-construction bedroom, May bites down on her lip as if she's trying her absolute hardest not to say a word. America gives her a furrowing frown as her eyes glare at her.

"I love the room so far," Maxon says, giving America a kiss on the cheek.

Maxon lingers for a bit, putting a hand to America's forehead. America looks at him oddly, swatting away his hand.

"Are you sick?" Maxon asks her. "You're burning up."

"She's pregnant!" May blurts out.

"May!" America exclaims.

Maxon's mouth opens in shock. It takes him a few second for his mouth to turn into the happiest smile ever, making America melt in giggles.

"Are you really?" Maxon asks.

America doesn't respond.

* * *

 **All in all, America could be pregnant here. I'm not saying anything and neither did she.**

 **Not gonna lie, this chapter took me 30 mins to type.**

 **I actually had to google shades of gray for this. That sums up my depressing Friday night.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "Forgetting something important, darling?"**


	54. Photo 54: Sleeping Birthday Beauty

**Just a heads-up in response to** **Maxericaaa** **, I am planning to post a short Maxon and America high-school fic quite soon. It's actually already written. I will be posting a sneak peek of some sorts here when it's up.**

 **Thank you Anj0921 for reminding me about America's birthday. I completely forgot about it. This chapter is a little late but serves the same meaning.**

* * *

Photo #54: Sleeping Birthday Beauty

Eadlyn smirks a little from the corner of her mouth as she looks at the next photo.

She knows that in the royal world, aside from the actual monarchy, the next best thing were the parties. Illéa sure knew how to throw parties. If an event had to be arranged, Illéa was always considered to host. Political celebrations were one thing but birthday parties were something else. Those parties were always the most entertaining because nothing economical would be at stake. It could just be a hell of a good time.

The next photo still has Eadlyn smirking as she wonders what kind of party is going on. Instead of seeing dancing or champagne in the photo, she sees her mother asleep in her bed, laying on her stomach with her arms circling around her head. On top of her messy red locks in a little paper 'Happy Birthday' party hat.

Eadlyn feels warm inside as she stares longingly at the photo. Then as she feels her own body go cold and empty with a disappearing grimace. She finds herself muttering, wishing for her mother to wake up just so she can live to experience her next birthday.

-o-

The palace doors open and America walks in wearing her most comfortable jeans, a basic tee with a cardigan, flats, and sunglasses. Basically, this is the most comfortable she's been all weekend which is relieving to her. She yawns and ruffles her own hair as some of the butlers enter the palace with America's bags.

"We'll take all of your bags, your Highness," one of the butler says.

In the middle of her thanks, America yawns again. She could've slept on the plane ride home but she still hasn't gotten used to the idea of sleeping on planes. One would think that by now and after all the overseas traveling she has done, she would know how to sleep on planes but that is a lesson she still has to teach herself.

America climbs up the stairs to head to her bedroom. She holds on the railing, pulling herself up with her hands more than using her feet to walk up. That's how tired she is. It's times like this when she wished her bedroom was on the ground floor or the basement rather than upstairs.

At the top, she sees Maxon light up at her presence. He wraps his arms around her, embracing her return as he kisses he repeatedly on her head. America lets herself loose on him, putting all her weight on him. She closes her eyes as her head rests on his shoulder. If she could, she would fall asleep in his warmth.

"How was your trip?" Maxon asks her.

"Fine..." America mumbles into his shirt. "I'm beyond tired. I'm going to sleep."

"Really?" Maxon questions, surprised at that response as America breaks from his hug and continues walking towards their room. He jogs a few steps to catch up to her. "Are you really going to take a nap _now_?"

"Hibernation would be a better word."

"But, darling - "

America turns around sharply, pointing her finger at him. Maxon immediately stops, not seeing that action coming. She lowers her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose and glares at him with sharp and narrowed eyes. He doesn't comment on the dark bags under her eyes because even he knows better than to insult a sleep-deprived and angry wife. As Maxon's silence lingers, she raises her sunglasses back up to her eyes and continues her walk to the bedroom. Maxon continues to follow, needing to say something to her.

"America," Maxon calls again.

"It can wait till tomorrow!" America yells back, opening the bedroom door and swinging it closed.

"No, it cannot..." Maxon mutters to himself, catching the door before it closes and walking in.

Maxon closes the door behind him as he stands in the doorway. America staggers over to the bed and throws herself right in the middle, lying like a starfish that's washed up on shore. America throws her sunglasses off and finally feels relieved when she can just close her eyes. Nothing feels better than falling asleep when your body can no longer stay awake.

"America..." Maxon whispers, walking over to the bed. "Are you forgetting something important, darling?"

"Go away..." America grumbles through the pillows.

"No, America, this is - "

"I'm not changing into my pajamas, deal with it."

Maxon has no response. He didn't even realize that America just fell asleep in her civvies. She even left her flats on.

"No, America," Maxon tries to get in there, "I'm trying to tell you that - "

Maxon cuts him off when he hears America's light snoring. She's completely knocked out with no hope of her waking up anytime soon. Maxon just smiles to himself, putting a hand on the back of his neck. At first, he decides not to laugh out loud despite him really wanting to but America is so fast asleep that a bomb could go off and she'll only nestle deeper into the sheets.

"Oh, my..." Maxon mutters. "That must have been one hell of a plane ride."

He heads over to his dresser and pulls out a small party hat with the words 'Happy Birthday' written across the circular part of the cone. He gently rests it on her head. Maxon backs away and grabs his camera, taking a picture of his sleeping beauty with the party hat on her head, still smirking wildly to himself. When that's done with, he takes a seat on the little space on the edge of the bed considering that America's starfish position has her limbs populating the entire surface area. Before he does anything else, Maxon stretches forwards and takes her flats off, throwing them across the room. Then, Maxon lightly kisses her cheek once more and throws some of her red curls off over her head and away from her face.

"Happy birthday, my dear," Maxon tells her. "I never imagined one could be so tired that they forget their own birthday. Don't worry, when you wake up, you can have some cake."

* * *

 **To be honest, I am so tired of typing up party chapters so that's why this chapter is written with this plot. Also, I won't be surprised if this were to ever happen to me.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- gotta start the day off with a hot cup of coffee...**


	55. Photo 55: Early Cup of Joe

**In my head, I literally have a list of dates that I want to go on. This is definitely one of them.**

* * *

Photo #55: Early Cup of Joe

Eadlyn wouldn't say that she's tired of looking at her father's photo wall. She's already seen a lot of pictures and they only seem to be going on forever but her eyes are heavy. The reason behind her drooping eyes is because of all the pain they're seeing. These pictures have her mother smiling and living her life to the fullest when in a nearby hospital room, that same woman is attached to tubes and machines.

 _"You work too much," her mother would tell her, "take a breather or better yet, a nap."_

Eadlyn smiles to herself as he mother's words ring in her head.

Whenever Eadlyn would become sleepy with work still needed to be done, she would get a cup of coffee. Her mother didn't like her drinking caffeine but sometimes a little kick of energy was needed over a power nap.

The next picture has her mother sitting in a café, blowing into her cup of coffee to cool it down. Her eyes staring down at the flaky pastry on a plate in front of her. Eadlyn rubs her eyes, not even thinking about the mascara she knows she's ruining. No amount of caffeine can save Eadlyn now, regardless of how much sugar she puts in her cup.

-o-

"America," Maxon whispers in her ear one early morning, "wake up, darling."

"I don't want to," America replies, yawning to herself as she goes back to sleep.

"C'mon..." Maxon encourages, lightly shaking her shoulders. "I have a surprise for you."

America's eyebrows shoot up at the sound of that special word though her eyes remain closed. She finally drags herself out of bed and puts herself in a pair of jeans, a basic tee with a cardigan, and some slip-on shoes; and does her hair in a messy bun. No makeup is on her face since that requires energy and she has none of that.

After she's finally done, Maxon takes her hand and leads her through the castle. America's glad he's in control because she's lazily following him. The only time she pays attention is when she's required to go down the stairs.

The two of them walk outside the palace doors and America immediately puts her arms around herself. It only hits her now how cold it really is. She looks around and also notices just now that the sun is just cracking over the horizon.

"What time is it?" America asks.

Maxon takes a quick glance at his watch. "A little after six in the morning."

America steps back. "Maxon Schreave, what are we doing at _a little after six in the morning_?"

"Going out."

He opens the car door for her. She steps in and closes it before getting in the drivers seat himself. He starts the engine and drives the car himself off the palace grounds and into the city of Angeles. As a young teenager, Maxon was only taught the basics of how to drive. He never had to drive himself since he always had a chauffeur but it was a good life skill to learn, kind of like swimming.

"What about the kids?" America asks.

"We'll be back before they wake up," he replies casually. "We can even bring them back something."

Maxon drives through the empty streets as America rests against her window. She watches the stores as they pass by them. Shop owners open the drapes, turn on the lights, and flip the little closed signs to show their 'open' side. Civilians walk their dogs, all while chugging their morning smoothies; hair still damp from that quick morning shower.

The city is waking up just as the sun rises.

Maxon parks the car and America steps out. She closes the door and sees a cute, little café in front of her. Maxon reaches forwards for her hand and she takes it. He leads her into the café and opens the door a little, a bell chiming as they walk in. They're greeted by a barista, who not only bows for respect but smiles with surprise and joy (which impresses the both of them considering how early in the morning it is).

"Good morning, your Majesties," the barista greets with a smile as bright as the sun on her face. "What can I get the both of you today?"

"Short macchiato," America replies. Her eyes gravitate over to the pastry section off to the side and stare with absolute adoration at the grand selection. "And a chocolate chip croissant."

"Make that a dozen croissants," Maxon corrects. He did say earlier that he would bring something back for the kids. "And an Americano."

The barista nods, scribbling down their orders on the side of their cups with a marker. Maxon pays and opens an arm out for America to pick out a table for them. America walks deeper into the café and chooses a high table by the window with high stools as seats. As she gazes out at the rising sun, she hears Maxon approach and take a seat parallel to her.

"You're too sweet, Maxon," America tells him.

"I just figured that since we're busy with four kids and a country, we could use a little time to ourselves. We're still young, America."

America nibbles on her croissant. "Tell that to your graying hair."

Maxon smiles to himself. As America looks down at her coffee, she picks up her cup and smirks at the little illustration on the side of her cup. On her cup and Maxon's, the barista not only wrote the drink but also drew a heart with a crown on it.

"You know," America starts, tapping the simple illustration. "If we were still young and adventurous, we should get this as a matching tattoo."

Maxon chuckles. "That's where I'm drawing the line."

America snickers as she picks up her coffee. She lightly blows on it before taking a careful sip. Maxon can't help but take a photo of his wife.

America licks her lips. From the chocolate croissant to the steamed milk and espresso in her coffee and her handsome husbandness sitting across from her, this is the best morning she could've ever asked for. To the people who said that every morning should start with an early cup of joe, she raises her coffee cup.

* * *

 **I am totally down for getting coffee with my darling at 6:00 AM.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- Some things just don't get along...**


	56. Photo 56: Antibiosis (SP)

**I have exciting news which none of you will probably care about but hey, it got a good chapter from it. I'll talk more at the end of the chapter ;)**

 **Copyright: Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses (don't judge me, I love that movie)**

* * *

Photo #56: Antibiosis

Eadlyn knows that her father was never an 'outdoors' type of kid growing up. Seeing how her father is now, Eadlyn could guess that he doesn't like playing in the dirt as much as desk work. Or maybe her paternal grandparents wanted her father to focus more on his royal duties as opposed to getting dirty.

Not all boys were made for running around.

Unlike Maxon, Eadlyn's maternal uncle Gerad had an adoration for nature. He loved being outside and looking at trees and little creatures in comparison to schoolwork. In fact, whenever Gerad would visit the castle, he always brought his knowledge with him to show off.

This next photo not only shows Gerad's intelligence but Maxon's fear as well. The picture has Gerad showing Maxon something and Maxon has his eyes opened as wide as they can be, as if they were screaming. Eadlyn moves her head closer to the picture, as if that would help her get a better view of what Gerad was showing her father.

-o-

"Hello, my youngest brother!" America exclaims, opening her arms for Gerad.

Gerad runs through the royal hallways, excited to see his sister. America gets on her knees and leans back with joy as Gerad runs into her arms. She hugs him tightly, smothering him in multiple kisses.

"How are you?" America asks, running her hands through his hair. "How's school?"

Ever since America's family moved to Angeles, Gerad and May attended new schools with better education programs. Especially now since the castes are demolished, they were free to study whatever they wanted and not be bound to what their former caste dictated (especially since Gerad didn't favor the arts).

"School's fine," Gerad replies unintentionally vague.

"What does _fine_ mean?" America asks, wanting more of a story.

"Maxon!" Gerad exclaim, running to hug him.

America rolls her eyes, not because of her husband stealing her brother away but because she's never going to get a school day chapter. Maxon swings Gerad around when he's in his grasp before carrying him. Gerad scream for joy as he flies around.

"Hey, buddy," Maxon says. "My god, you've grown so tall since I last saw you."

"I eat my vegetables," Gerad says, making the adults grin a little. He leans in closer to Maxon's ear to whisper, "except for spinach."

Maxon cringes a little in a mocking tone as Gerad laughs. America raises an eyebrow at Maxon, wondering what that was all about. Maxon winks, meaning that either it's a boys only topic or that she'll be informed later. Most of the time, it was the latter.

"So," Maxon says, putting Gerad back on the ground. "How was school?"

"Fine," Gerad repeats. He suddenly lights up. "Oh! I learned a new word today!"

"Really?" America asks, excited for her little brother. "What word?"

"Antibiosis," Gerad responds.

Maxon and America's only response is to blink with a blank expression on their faces. Gerad looks up at them proudly of the newest addition to his vocabulary. Maxon and America are surprised at that word, that's for sure. They don't even know what that word means. Gerad is barely ten-years-old. They thought his new word would be something like 'accountant' or 'rocket'.

"Wow..." America mutters. "Can you use it in a sentence?"

That's so it helps all of them out.

Gerad hesitates and shrugs. "I'll think of a way later."

Gerad then kneels on the ground and takes off his backpack. Maxon and America look down and watch as Gerad opens his backpack. He takes out a stack of little blue boxes with glass covers and small holes in them.

"What have you got there?" Maxon asks. Little does he know that America already knows the answer to that.

"Meet Malloy," Gerad says, showing the first blue box.

In that box is a live grasshopper. America gasps, getting a closer look at the insect name Malloy. Maxon's eyes open up as he feels his body tense up. Unlike Gerad who loves insects, Maxon gets squeamish around them. Despite the vast royal gardens, he wasn't particularly fond of the little creatures that lived in it.

"Meet Whitby." Gerad shows a silver-blue beetle in the second box.

America smiles to herself, looking at the two boys she loves in different ways. Both of them have special places in her heart. She can't help but take a picture of them - especially since Maxon is trying to remain calm at the sight of bugs.

Gerad opens box for the bug and gasps when he sees an empty box.

"Where's Foley?!" Gerad exclaims.

Maxon feels his brain shut down due to a rising sense of panic. If there's one thing he doesn't like more than bugs, it's the idea of a bug being loose in his castle. Especially since he doesn't know what type of bug is currently MIA. His gut instincts tell him to scream. Not only does he do that a little bit he also jumps on the closest chair.

"What is he?!" Maxon panics about the bug. "A spider? A scorpion? A _snake_?!"

Gerad laughs a little which turns into a lot when Maxon points and wails at the sight of something crawling underneath the tablecloth. America takes a step closer to take control of the whole situation but Gerad beat her to the table. Gerad lifts the tablecloth and lights up at the sight of his missing bug.

"Foley is a caterpillar," Gerad says, showing Maxon and America the bright green bug.

Maxon, dumbfounded by his now-useless panic attack, slowly steps down from the chair. He glances at America and her cheeky grin says that she will remain him of this exact moment everyday for the rest of his life. Despite that, Maxon is relieved that the missing bug wasn't anything harmful. He understands caterpillars as the first stage to being a butterfly and butterflies were safe.

"Maxon, meet Foley," Gerad says, shoving the caterpillar in his face.

Maxon jumps back a little. America bites down on her lip, trying her absolute hardest not to laugh.

Maxon clears his throat. "Nice to meet you, Foley, I - uh - I'll be right back."

And he runs off.

Gerad turns around and faces America with a bright smile as she puts her hands on his shoulders.

"What does that smile mean?" America questions, tapping his dimples.

"Maxon and Foley have an an antibiotic relationship," he says.

America takes a second to process that. She smiles, now having an understanding of what that word means.

* * *

 **Anyways, my exciting news is that I have published a new story titled _Antibiosis_. It's an Avengers fic that's a part of my _Project: New Generation_ series. Just thought that I would point that out since I self-promote all the time and my other story, _The Princess's Choice_ is from the same series.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- what's your name?**


	57. Photo 57: The Name Game

**Just to make it clear, I did say I had a Maxmerica high-school fic. Yes, it's finished and ready to publish. However, I currently have four fics in-progress as of right now. I do have a date when I will publish it and when that day comes, I will post a small sneak peek here. It's going to be soon, not in like a year.**

* * *

Photo #57: The Name Game

Coming from someone whose name is Princess _Princess_ , Eadlyn knows a little something when it comes to names.

Her family had a weird knack when it came to names. Eadlyn has guessed that it came from the idea of easily being remembered in Illéan history. It would be easier to remember a Maxon rather than just another John. The same goes for her mother. People will remember a queen who was named after the country's former name rather than just another Sarah.

Her parents most likely didn't follow that mindset but it was interesting to think about since it does make sense.

Eadlyn never really asked why she was named Eadlyn. It just that one question she never saw a point in asking. It was her _name_. For as long as she was alive, she's always been Eadlyn Helena Margarete Schreave and she didn't have a problem with that.

The next photo has her mother and Miss. Marlee, both of them pregnant but at different stages - Miss. Marlee being further into her pregnancy. They're sitting on a couch in the Women's Room and the table in front of them has multiple books listing many options for naming children.

Eadlyn closes her eyes, putting her forehead against the photo. She prays for her mother to be alright so she can ask why her name is Eadlyn.

-o-

"How about Victoria?" America suggests to Marlee. She glances at the book in her hands. "It means victory or triumphant. That sounds elegant."

Marlee hesitates on that name as she rubs her baby bump. She eventually scrunches her nose and shakes her head.

Since the two women were both expecting, they decided to spend the afternoon in the Women's Room. Their agenda for the day was to relax and discuss their babies, specifically their possible baby names. It was remarkable that they were both pregnant at the same time (Marlee being closer to delivery and America just starting to show).

"Victoria sounds too serious," Marlee says. "It also reminds me of the word vicious. I want something that sounds happy and cheerful."

"Happy and cheerful..." America mutters, flipping through the baby book in her hands. Marlee had one of her own and the table set in front of them had even more. "Happy and cheerful..."

America ends up reaching for another book of names. She begins browsing through that one as well.

"What about Jolie?" America questions. Marlee lights up at that name. "It literally means cheerful and pretty. I think it comes from the French."

Marlee claps happily. "I love that name!" Her smile slowly fades. "There's just one problem."

"What is it?"

"I want to name my baby girl something that I can make a nickname out of, you know?" Marlee says. "I've always wanted a nickname growing up but what nickname can you derive from _Marlee_? Mar? Lee? Marls? No, those are ridiculous. I can't give Carter or Kile a nickname either so I want my daughter to have one."

America nods, understanding the importance of that. "I'm sure we'll find a name that can be happy and also have potential nicknames."

Marlee grins. "Let's take a break from my baby and focus on yours for a bit."

Marlee picks up a bunch of the name books and sets them on her lap. She takes the one on top of the pile and opens it to the middle before eyeing America.

"So..." Marlee starts, leafing through the pages. "What kind of name do you want for your baby boy?"

America lightly giggles before resting her hands on her lap. She sits back and looks up at the ceiling, wondering what kind of name she would actually want for her third child. She continues to ponder, putting a hand on her bump in hopes that it would help.

"A strong and powerful name," America says, holding up a bold fist to emphasize her point.

Marlee nods, interested in finding the perfect name. She begins browsing through the books.

"What about Maxon?" Another voice says.

America and Marlee turn to the door and see Maxon and Carter peeking their heads in the door of the Women's Room (since they were still not allowed in, despite Maxon's title).

"Really?" America questions her husband. "You want to name our son Maxon Calix Schreave Jr?"

"It sounds even better when you say it."

Maxon beams in pride as America playfully rolls her eyes.

"Oh!" Marlee exclaims.

"Oh my god," Carter says, breaking all the rules and running into the Women's Room. "Did your water break?!"

"What? No, it didn't." Marlee playfully slaps his chest as Carter slides down to sit on the floor beside his wife. "How about the name Caspian?"

America gasps. "That name sounds so whimsical yet striking."

Maxon cringes a little. "You _like_ that name?"

America looks at him. "You _don't_?"

Maxon invites himself into the Women's Room. Despite him living in the palace his whole life, he still felt weird and uncomfortable about walking into this certain room uninvited. He sits on the arm of the couch on America's side and begins looking through the book of names. Carter does the same.

"What about Axel?" Maxon asks. "Axel Schreave."

He waves a hand across the air, as if it was going to illuminate that name in neon lights. America doesn't see anything lighting up for her in relation to that name.

"What about Madison?" Carter asks. "Madison Woodwork."

He waves his hand the same way Maxon did for the same effect. Marlee only stares back, not phased by whatever point Carter was going for.

America and Marlee look at each other, asking with their eyes for their opinions on the names their husbands suggested. They tilt their heads at each other, as if they were sharing their thoughts with one another. Carter and Maxon look at each other and even though they have no idea what the other is thinking, they are spooked by whatever the hell their wives were doing telepathically.

"No," their wives state in sync.

"What? Why?" The husbands ask in sync (unintentionally, unlike their wives).

America only shrugs. Maxon tries his best not to roll his eyes at his wife's vague and wordless response.

"A nickname for Madison would be Maddie," Marlee tells Carter. "The first syllable of Maddie is 'Mad' and I told you that I wanted a happy name."

Carter blinks, not understanding how his wife was able to come up with that idea for that name. America feels the same way when Marlee pointed out the word vicious with the name Victoria. They had to give Marlee credit for being able to analyze those characteristics.

"Don't worry," America says to them, "we'll narrow down all the good names to choose from."

" _Good names_?" Maxon repeats, that phrase almost winding him. "Dear, we don't necessarily agree on what constitutes a _good_ name."

"I think the one name we can agree on is Women's Room," Marlee says, smiling brightly almost to the point of it being diabolical. "So scoot."

Marlee uses her hands in almost a sweeping motion towards the doors. Maxon and Carter look at each other, getting the message. The two men stand up and make their way back to the hallway.

"We tried..." Maxon mutters to Carter.

"You'd think they'd give us more credit considering that we _helped_ make the baby," Carter whispers back.

"Carter!" Marlee yells.

Marlee whips a pillow right at the back at his head. Maxon and America laugh loudly. Carter turns around again and gives his wife another one of his cute, crooked smiles.

"Let's leave quickly," Carter says, pushing Maxon out of the Women's Room. "They have ears everywhere."

* * *

 **I'm being honest here: I just googled unique girl names and Jolie showed up. I just had to use it since Jolie and Josie sound so similar.**

 **If your name was mentioned and you got offended by the way it was portrayed, I am deeply sorry from the bottom of my heart. I didn't mean it.**

 **On that note, I have a list of names I would use for my own kids and they're all after fictional characters.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- it will be the sneak peek of said Maxmerica fanfic**


	58. Photo 58: Meet My Date (SP)

**Guys, today is my birthday and that is why I've been delaying the publication of that Maxmerica two-shot. I wanted to post it today.**

 **This is the sneak peek for said work! It really has nothing to do with the actual two-shot but it's just a notification saying that it exists. All details will be at the end.**

* * *

Photo #58: Meet My Date

Eadlyn remembers when Ahren first announced Princess Camille de Sauveterre as his girlfriend. Their parents were shocked at first, especially Ahren's dad and Camille's mom. Eadlyn guessed the reason was because they never thought that their kids would be together (little did Eadlyn know that Daphne had romantic feelings towards Maxon back in the day). Kaden and Osten didn't really seem to care about Ahren and Camille since they were younger. Although if you were to ask them today, Eadlyn doubts that their answers would change. Herself on the other hand, she wasn't fond of Ahren and Camille.

When the two of them started out, Eadlyn didn't understand it. She always wondered why Ahren would pick Camille when he had the opportunity to pick from anyone. At first, she thought it wouldn't last but they only grew stronger together.

It's not like Eadlyn can do anything to change it now, especially considering the current situation.

As much as Eadlyn wouldn't want to say it, she wishes she could go back to the days when Ahren and Camille just started going out. Not only would her twin be here but her mother would also be walking around and not lying in a hospital bed. The next photo shows that. It has Ahren and Camille holding each other close in the palace gardens.

The only thing Eadlyn wonders is who took that photo...

-o-

Illéa is hosting another one of their extraordinary parties. A lot of royals and officials from all over the world have flown in to celebrate. The ballroom is filled with class, glitz, and glamor - that is, until a woman's light shriek fills the room. The orchestra's music is much too loud for anyone to hear it though. Besides, it's not like there was a murder or a scandalous rumor being exposed, it was only Osten.

Osten continues skidding past all the grown-ups. Half of them jump a little as they see the little boy appear out of nowhere, some even nearly spilling their drinks on their fancy clothes. Osten keeps on running around the room until he spots his father talking to people.

"Daddy, daddy!" Osten calls as he runs up to him.

Maxon looks away from his conversation and sees Osten. His eyes widen since he son isn't supposed to be causing trouble.

"Osten, what on Earth are you doing?" Maxon asks him. "Where is your nanny?"

Osten shrugs. Maxon sighs. He excuses himself from his current conversation as he picks up Osten and carries him to the side of the ballroom.

"And what are you doing with my camera?" Maxon questions.

Osten looks down at his father's camera hanging around his neck. His expression almost says that he didn't even know the camera was there to begin with.

"What have I told you about using my camera?" Maxon asks.

"Only take pictures of Mommy..." Osten replies.

Osten didn't like being locked upstairs during these events and since he didn't like being bossed around with his nanny, Maxon gave Osten something to do during these events (granted that his nanny still has to around). To satisfy this, Maxon lets Osten use his camera during these events to keep him occupied (and take pictures of America while he had it). It was a win-win situation for the both of them.

"And did you?" Maxon asks, seeming like he already knew the answer.

Osten looks up at Maxon who raises an eyebrow. He fiddled with the camera's neck strap and looks down at his shoes.

"No..." Osten says nervously. "Not yet. Mommy left to go powder her nose...whatever that means."

"Well, grab something to eat and then head back upstairs."

"But, Daddy! Look!"

Osten jumps up and grabs Maxon's tie, pulling it down so he'll be at his height. Maxon takes back his tie and fixes it as Osten browses through the camera. Maxon leans in closer as he looks at the photo Osten took in the gardens. It has Ahren and Camille sitting the gazebo that's in the middle of several flower bushels.

"Osten," Maxon says in almost a scolding tone, "this is an invasion of their privacy."

"Daddy, you don't get it."

Maxon rolls his eyes a little as he looks at the photo again. Maxon examines it further, squinting his eyes. Ahren and Camille are alone in the gazebo, in the dark. They're both in each other's arms, smiling and laughing in a way that typical friends don't.

"Oh..." Maxon says softly. Then he wonders how Osten realized it faster than he did.

"See," Osten says proudly. "Are they in love, Daddy?"

Maxon shrugs. The idea of his son dating Princess Camille de Sauveterre is something that he should've seen coming since she was a princess and he was a prince. It was just Camille that was throwing him a curveball because -

"Maxon," Daphne calls.

Maxon turns around and sees Daphne. Over the years, they have only kept in touch for diplomatic reasons and have said a hello or two at special events - they were even present at each other's weddings. The years have done her well and she has aged gracefully.

"Osten has shown me his photography skills," Daphne says with a small smile. "The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree."

Maxon was too trapped in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Osten running off to show Daphne to pictures he took. Now he has no clue where Osten is.

"It seems as if our children have feelings for each other," Daphne states. Maxon nods. She smirks a little. "Well, you and America have raised him so well so I have no problems with that."

Maxon smiles. "Neither do I."

Maxon thought this encounter with Daphne would be awkward considering their one-sided romance back in the day when they were both teenagers. Now, their children like each other and they couldn't be more than happy. For if it wasn't for Daphne admitting her feelings and Maxon rejecting her, they would've never gone their separate ways and had their own kids. All that was worth it now seeing their kids in love with each other.

Maxon takes a breath and feels someone wrap their fingers around his arm. He looks over his shoulder and sees America approaching him.

"Why is Osten taking pictures of me?" America whispers to Maxon, just loud enough for Daphne to hear.

Daphne laughs a little to herself, putting a graceful hand over her mouth to cover it. Maxon begins to redden as he turns around to hide his face from the two women. While he's looking away, he briskly searches for Osten (his first guess was that Osten was trailing America as he continuously takes pictures) but he was nowhere to be seen. When Maxon faces America again, she sees her furrowing her brows in a loving way.

"Has Osten showed you the pictures?" Daphne asks her.

"What pictures?" America asks because Osten was busy taking pictures of her instead.

Before anyone could answer, Ahren and Camille enter the ballroom from a side door. The parents look over at them and see the two of them holding hands to the point where they're both linking arms. America gets the current situation and she understands what's going on.

Ahren and Camille meet eyes with their parents and stop when they see that all their eyes are on them. They mutter amongst themselves before taking the courage to approach their parents. From the look on their faces, they don't really need to explain anything since they already seen to know.

"Bonjour..." Camille greets timidly, her free hand that isn't holding Ahren's is pulling at the lace on her dress.

"You two have anything to share?" Maxon asks them, his eyes staring at them intensely.

"Father..." Ahren mutters, holding a gesturing arm towards Camille. "Meet my date."

* * *

 **Go check out my Maxmerica two-shot:**

 **Meet My Date -** Maxon and America bring each other home for the first time to meet their incredibly different families (High School AU) (America x Maxon)

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- drink up!**


	59. Photo 59: Champagne Birthday

**Thank you all for the birthday wishes (like two weeks ago lol)! And thank you to all the people who reviewed saying something along the lines of Daphne being nice. I actually tried to make her a good person and I'm glad I succeeded at that.**

 **Happy Birthday to Eadlyn and Ahren!**

 **This chapter may include underaged drinking (depending on whatever Illéa's legal drinking age is, I'm not exactly sure what it is) but there is adult supervision! (Maybe...)**

* * *

Photo #59: Champagne Birthday

Champagne Birthday - when someone turns the age of their birth day.

Eadlyn remembers planning her and Ahren's champagne birthday (aka sixteenth birthday because they were born on April 16). They had no idea what they wanted to do since for them, the options were open-ended and they both wanted different things. Eadlyn wanted something sophisticated and Ahren wanted something fun (both contrary). Like every Illéan party, it was going to be big with people coming from all over the world, but they didn't know exactly what they wanted to do that would satisfy each other. They had to make it something that would at least be accustomed to a good majority of the guests.

Osten took it literally and asked if there was going to be champagne at a champagne birthday. The twins rolled their eyes, thinking of it as a joke at first. Their father said it was just a name but Ahren and Eadlyn lit up like lightbulbs after thinking it through.

That was their idea: a champagne birthday with _actual_ champagne.

It was right in the name so why the hell not? It was also sophisticated and fun.

The next photo shows Eadlyn and Ahren at their party together. They're both linking arms with a glass of champagne in their free hands. There was a lot of champagne that night. If it weren't for the many pictures, Eadlyn wouldn't have remembered a single thing about her sixteenth birthday.

-o-

"Daddy," Osten nags, pulling on his father's suit jacket. "Why can't I have some champagne?"

Maxon sighs, having to repeat himself for the hundredth time this evening. He pinches the bridge of his nose in a bit of annoyance before facing his son.

"I've told you this already," Maxon replies. "You won't like how it tastes."

That may or may not have been a lie but telling Osten that he was well underaged to drink champagne would only pursue him to drink it even more.

"But how would I know I don't like it if I don't taste it?"

"Osten, why don't you go hang out with Kaden and Josie?"

"Because I want champagne."

Maxon sighs again, not knowing how to handle his youngest. You'd think that after three kids he would have this handled but nope. Osten was something else. He sees America approaching them and he's grateful. Maybe she can alleviate him from this situation with her maternal tricks.

"Here you go, baby," America says to Osten.

She kneels in front of her youngest, her ballgown billowing out. She hands Osten a tall, slender glass filled with a sparkling beverage. Osten cheers to himself as he runs off, careful not to spill any of his drink. America smiles to herself as she stands up straight again. She looks at her husband who's furrowing his brows at her.

"I thought we discussed this," Maxon says, crossing his arms at her.

"We did," America replies. "He's only drinking ginger ale. All the servers have been alerted to only give Osten ginger ale."

Maxon smirks. America smiles as well, taking her husband's arm.

"Oh my," Maxon says, "he's going to have such a sugar high."

"I know." America giggles.

"I think I would rather see him drunk than hyper."

America nudges him a little. "I wouldn't. We just need to make sure the twins don't over-exert themselves on their special day."

That wasn't happening.

Meanwhile, across the ballroom, the twins dance together, both tipsy enough to step (or dance) a bit out of their comfort zones. Eadlyn shimmers in her ballgown: gold jewel bodice that shimmers out into a full-length white skirt, hair done up in a bun, simple makeup, slight sparkle in her hair, and silver heels. Ahren matches in a dark suit with a gold bow tie. Even the waiters were wearing muted gold bow ties. The guests were orderes to wear solid print, just so the birthday twins would stand out in the crowd.

Their parents told them only to have a few glasses of champagne in moderation but they were at the number of drinks that made them feel as if they were on top of the world. Speaking of world, every waiter here is carrying glasses of champagne on their trays - the most exquisite champagne from all over the world.

"Buvez!" Camille exclaims to the twins, holding two tall glasses for each of them in her dainty hands.

"Qu'est-ce - " Eadlyn attempts in her worst French accent. She gives up. "What is this?"

"The waiter says it's a gift from Queen Nicoletta. The finest champagne from Italy." She smiles. "Buvez!"

They both look at the glass longer and take some sips, disposing their glasses on a passing server's tray. Eadlyn and Ahren's eyes pop open at the taste of that champagne.

"Wow," they both state in pure shock.

"It felt like my mouth was in a bubble bath," Ahren says, clicking his tongue. "So many little carbonated bubbles popping in my mouth."

Eadlyn snickers. "A beautiful bitter bubble bath."

Kile brushes by them. "Takes someone bitter to know something bitter."

He laughs as he walks off. Kile looks over his shoulder to catch Eadlyn's glare (which looks even better today due to all the sparkles she's covered in). Eadlyn rolls her eyes to herself.

"Try this one," Camille says, passing them another glass and taking one from herself. She gives her thanks to the server in French.

The twins loved Camille being here - Ahren for obvious reasons but Eadlyn as well since Camille seemed to have an extensive knowldege on all things champagne (which was most useful today of all days). Eadlyn and Ahren look at the new glass in their hands. The liquid inside looks the same but with a richer color and intense aroma.

"Shall we?" Eadlyn asks, making a slight tipping gesture with the top of her glass.

"You've heard my lady," Ahren says, smiling brightly. "Buvez!"

Eadlyn laughs a little. Her and Ahren link arms that have the glasses. In one swift motion, they feed each other the champagne. Camille captures a photo to celebrate the moment. Both glasses are empty in one sip and Camille cheers, clapping as well as she finishes her glass off.

"That was the best one," Eadlyn says.

"Agreed!" Ahren states.

"It tasted like biscuits and nuts."

"White flowers and spices."

Camille looks around and makes eye contact with a server. She waves him over with an order in her mind.

"Encore!" She exclaims. "Bonne fête, mes jumeaux!"

* * *

 ** _Notes_ : I googled what champagne tastes like because to me, it's just deliciously bitter. Also, if the French is off, that's all my fault. If you want or need translations, then I will be more than happy to provide:**

 **Buvez - drink! / Encore - again! / Qu'est-ce que - What is? /** **Bonne fête, mes jumeaux - Happy birthday, my twins!**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- Make way for the Easter Bunny!**


	60. Photo 60: Hop, Hop, Hop!

**Technically my Easter falls on the same day as Eadlyn and Ahren's birthday.**

 **Happy Easter everyone!**

* * *

Photo #60: Hop, Hop, Hop!

Eadlyn knows why her parents preferred her and her siblings when they were younger. Minus the excessive noise, there were so many more options on what to do in order to have fun. There was so much more make believe in the childhood mind (and it was easier to convince their younger selves into doing ridiculous things).

Easter was one of those times. All the pastel colors, flowers, (Eadlyn and her father loved chocolate), and all the activities; egg hunt, waiting for the Easter bunny. All of those were so much more fun when they were children who still believed in the illusion of the Easter bunny.

The next photo shows one of their Easters when they were still children. The longer Eadlyn looks at the photo, the more she has to rub her eyes. Not because she has tears or anything like that, she just doesn't believe the Easter Bunny being there.

-o-

"I still don't understand how these children could be so hyper," Maxon says, struggling to get a picture of the kids where none of them are all blurry.

"They're children, Maxon," America replies with the brightest smile on her face which only compliments the sunny day, "they're excited and full of sugar."

Maxon snickers. "They can't be full of _that_ much sugar..."

America nudges him. "What are you talking about?" She thinks she knows the answer and immediately nudges him harder. "Maxon!"

"What?" Maxon questions, grinning as if he hasn't done anything (when America knows he has).

"You ate all the chocolate, didn't you?"

"Of course not, dear..." He looks away for a bit. "Carter had some as well."

America rolls her eyes, resisting a smile Maxon knows is there. He kisses the side of her head to break her ice. America raises an eyebrow at Marlee who gives the look to her husband. She crosses her arms at Carter who shrugs sheepishly.

Meanwhile, the Schreave and Woodwork kids run around the yard to see who can find the most Easter eggs - or even better, The Easter Bunny. The rule made was that whoever found the most eggs obviously won but whoever found the Easter Bunny gets the victory, regardless of how many eggs were in their baskets. They were going to work as teams divided by siblings, but even with Osten mysteriously not around, the Woodwork kids were still out-numbered so now they're playing as solo teams.

"You're cheating!" Kaden yells at Josie.

"Am not!" Josie yells back.

"You can use eggs straight from the kitchen! Those don't count!"

"Who says they don't? They're _eggs_."

"Josie!"

"You didn't make the rules!"

Josie sticks out her tongue. Kaden sticks his out in response to that. The two of them run their separate ways. (Josie's eggs wouldn't count anyways unless she miraculously painted them to be all colorful. Nobody would know).

"Kids, play nice!" Marlee yells from the distance.

Easier said than done.

Eadlyn scans the gardens for some eggs to add to her basket. Her eyes examine every square centimeter to find even the slightest detail out of place. Her parents and the Woodworks did an excellent job at hiding the eggs, that's for sure. Then something catches her eye: a lime green dot in the center of a purple balloon flowers. She immediately starts to run over to the spot and claim the egg as hers. Ahren is suddenly running at her side, aiming for the same egg.

"Not today, Eady!" Ahren yells at her.

"Not _ever_ , Ahren!" Eadlyn yells back.

At the same time, the twins dive forwards with out-stretched arms to grasp the egg. When they land on the ground, they ignore their mother's scolding for dirtying their clothes. When they look up to grab the egg, they see that it's gone. For a moment, they think that it was a trick of the light this whole time, but it was a trick from someone else.

"First come, first serve!" Kile exclaims, placing the green egg in his own basket.

"We were here first!" Eadlyn and Ahren yell at once.

Eadlyn and Ahren huff in frustration as they get up and brush the dirt and grass off their clothes. They both separate to continue finding eggs.

Kaden stops running and hides behind a tree at something he suddenly finds in the trees. He stands behind a tree and takes another peek, this time more cautious and stealthy - like a predator to its prey. Kaden's eyes open wide at the sight of a gentle white animal with long ears and a bushy tail.

He can't believe his eyes.

Kaden turns around and waves his arms around frantically. The other kids look and he waves them over. They all run over but slow down due to Kaden's actions. They all crowd behind the tree and slowly peek over to see the same fuzzy animal. All of them gasp and feel their excitement build up.

"Could it really be?!" Josie exclaims before everyone starts shushing her.

"That's - " Ahren starts, trying to think of an explanation for what he's seeing " - I think it really is."

"Easter Bunny!" Josie exclaims, starting to chase it.

"Josie!" The others yell as they begin trailing her.

The bunny begins hopping as fast as it could, which is shockingly pretty speedy for its tiny legs. Josie catches up and tosses her egg basket to the side to pick up speed. She sees her father and once the Easter Bunny gets closer to him, the bunny dives through his legs and rolls on the ground for a bit before getting up again. Carter jumps a little and when Josie is about to do the same, Carter picks up Josie and swings her around.

"No!" Josie exclaims as the Bunny scurries away. "Daddy! Put me down!"

"Josie, you could've knocked the wind out of me," Carter jokes.

The other kids whizz by, still on pursuit of the Easter Bunny. They skid and side-step people, their eyes never leaving that bunny. As they near Maxon and America, the bunny crawls underneath the skirt of America's dress. America jumps a little with a small scream, grasping her heart. Maxon laughs a little as the kids stop in front of them, all panting.

"Mom," Eadlyn says, catching her breath. She wheezes, unable to finish her sentence.

"I know," America says, still startled by whatever crawled underneath her dress.

America lifts the hem of her skirt and the bunny rolls out. That's when they realize that the Easter Bunny is actually Osten wearing a bunny costume.

"My baby, you're so cute!" America exclaims, picking up her son before he could squirm away. She begins kissing his cheeks. Osten tries to loosen her grip around his waist.

"What are you wearing?" Ahren asks.

"And why?" Kaden adds.

Osten smirks with a little laugh. "I thought it would catch the Easter Bunny."

* * *

 **Honestly, I have never done an egg hunt but I have eaten a whole lot of chocolate.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- an (un)original song for his dear.**


	61. Photo 61: Ballade pour America

**This is short, I know, but this chapter actually means so freaking much to me. I will explain it all at the end. For now, just enjoy.**

* * *

Photo #61: Ballade pour America

Nobody's a musician in the current Schreave family. That aspect of genetic behavior would come from but only stayed with America. They tried - hell, everyone tried - but nobody except for America was musically inclined. Whether it'd be with instruments or vocals, nothing harmonious would come out from anyone who wasn't her.

Eadlyn is the child who would try her best to never have to do anything musical. From that perspective, she seems like a disgrace to the Singer genenitcs in her body, but at least she's no musical fraud (unlike _some_ people to be mentioned).

The next photo has Eadlyn's father sitting at one of the palace's grand pianos. It seems like he's playing a song but Eadlyn can't seem to put that idea to sense. She finds it unbelievable but little does she know that it actually happened.

-o-

The words that escape Maxon's mouth are unbelievable to her ears.

"I wrote you a song," he tells her.

It's almost too good to be true.

America doesn't respond because she's in too much disbelief. Her mind is definitely playing tricks on her because there was no way in hell that her husband wrote her a song. Maxon Schreave wrote a song. _A song_. He was incapable of doing anything music related so this is truly a shock for her.

"Did you really?" America asks just to be sure.

"I did," Maxon replies.

She still doesn't believe it.

"Seriously?"

Maxon holds his hand out for her and she takes it. He begins leading her through the castle halls and she's light and uneasy on her feet due to the thought her brain still couldn't process: Maxon Schreave wrote a song. _A song for her_. It doesn't matter that he's her husband and the song is for her, the point is that Maxon Schreave _wrote_ a song.

They approach one of the castle's grand pianos and Maxon takes a seat in front of the polished keys. America stands beside him just to make sure isn't going to play some recording to claim it's his. Maxon stretches his arms and fingers out before starting to play. He begins playing softly yet beautifully and America still believes that she's dreaming. Not only does she continue to pinch her inner arm but she also forced herself to take a picture of Maxon playing the piano - anything to prove this as real.

Each note is delicate and every chord is timed precisely. America finds herself holding her breath at the fragility of Maxon's playing. His fingers travel across the piano fluidly, not missing one note as he progresses to the chorus, building the power through his crescendo. As he hits that chord signifying the start of the chorus, America feels her jaw drop as a chill passes through her spine. Maxon found time in his busy schedule to write a song and teach himself how to play the piano - all without her knowledge.

This is the most beautiful she has ever seen Maxon.

America finds herself humming along to Maxon's song. Every melodious sound vibrates in her throat and then she drifts off from the song when she examines the situation even more.

Maxon wrote her and song and is playing the piano for her, she already established that after her strong disbelief. She's more concerned about her humming. If Maxon really wrote this song for her, then why is she humming along as if she knows this song?

Her eyes suddenly open wide. She already knows this song.

"Is this 'Ballade pour Adeline' by Richard Clayderman?" America asks him with a grin on her face.

Maxon slightly looks over his shoulder nervously. His eyes are wide open as if he just got caught for something.

Busted.

"I have no idea who that is," Maxon says casually as he continues playing. "Or what that song is."

America snickers. She knew it was too good to be true, but Maxon is playing so unexpectedly well that she doesn't really care that the song isn't an original.

"This is Ballade pour America by Maxon Schreave," Maxon tells her.

America shrugs. "If you say so."

America slides in the piano seat and starts to play along with Maxon but an octave higher.

* * *

 **Today is my mom's birthday and she passed about three years ago. When I played piano, she wanted me to play Ballade pour Adeline for my upcoming competition. She died before I could actually perform it. Apparently, she loved hearing me practice it, though. I didn't win the competition but I got a 93/100 which was one of my best performances yet.**

 **Another reason why this chapter is short: my mother was pretty short XD**

 **Thank you to anyone who actually bothered to read that note. I mean it :)**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "Your folds must be sharp, Mr. Schreave."**


	62. Photo 62: May I Have This Bed Sheet?

**In response to everyone who reviewed in the last chapter. I just want to give you all a gigantic hug and thanks for your lovely reviews. They truly made my day. I love you all so much :* And because I love you all so much, thank God I had this chapter banked and ready for you all to read. You all deserve it.**

 **Honest to God, I have no idea where this idea came from. I think I was doing laundry and taught myself how to fold a bed sheet alone.**

* * *

Photo #62: May I Have This Bed Sheet?

Grace.

That word was predominant in Eadlyn's childhood and was still present to this very day. She was always taught that a princess and first and foremost, a _lady_ , must be graceful at everything she does. Boys weren't off the hook. A prince and first a foremost, a _gentleman_ , must be graceful at everything he does.

Literally everything. Even the unexpected.

Eadlyn looks at the next photo and smirks at the sight of her twin. Ahren has his arms outstretched, his posture straight and poised as he stands parallel to Miss. Lucy. It looks as if they're dancing with one another but what throws Eadlyn off is the bed sheet the two of them are holding in between.

Grace and a bed sheet? Eadlyn has no idea what connection those two could ever have.

-o-

"Nope," Ahren says, tearing the sheet of paper from his spiral notebook.

He crumples the torn sheet and throws it over his shoulders. It bounces on the ground of the laundry room where he currently resides, landing somewhat near the other discarded sheets.

 _'Dearest Camille,'_ Ahren starts again before that letter becomes like the others.

Though Ahren prefers to write his letters to Camille in his room, sometimes he just needs a change of environment in order to produce the best letter possible. As of right now, he's sitting on top of an inoperative washing machine in the castle's laundry sector. The maids are scurrying around, doing repetitive loads but Ahren disregards the sounds. Sometimes a little background noise is needed to have true focus.

"That's corny," Ahren says to himself, tearing another sheet.

And to think that's only his rough copy. He would spend his day writing drafts to Camille - drafts that took place in a cheap notebook just so the final copy could be on standard stationary.

The next ball of paper lands at Lucy's feet. She puts down her basket of freshly dried linens and picks it up. Her eyes immediately land on Ahren and she smiles at his young love. She clears her throat which causes Ahren to jump a little before turning around. He sees her wiggling her fingers with the paper ball in it, gesturing to the ones on the floor with a nod of her head.

Basically, Ahren's made a mess.

"You make my job worth the pay," Lucy jokes.

She begins to pick up the papers before Ahren puts down his notebook and pencil and runs over. He takes over the clean-up of his own mess, apologizing for unintentionally making it in the first place. Ahren walks over to the nearest recycling bin to discard them and that gives Lucy an idea. That boy needs a serious break from those letters.

"Help me with this," Lucy says, picking up a crumpled bed sheet from the basket of fresh laundry.

Without questioning why, Ahren helps Lucy to fold this. He doesn't know what exactly to do so he mirrors whatever Lucy is doing. He watches as Lucy takes the corners of the sheet on her end and does the same. When she meets the corners in the middle, Ahren copies with his end.

"Your folds should be sharp, Mr. Schreave," Lucy says with a formal tone in her voice.

Lucy straightens her edges with precision, almost as if her fingers were magic wands. Ahren looks at her with an expression that's a mix of awestruck and dumbstruck.

"Folding a bed sheet is kind of like a waltz," Lucy starts as she walks closer to Ahren. She takes his corners of the bed sheet and folds it into one. She kicks her foot under the bed sheet and Ahren takes the new corners at the bottom. "One person cannot be ahead of the other and it's done with such grace that not one person can do alone."

Ahren never thought that laundry was like writing - full of similes metaphors.

"Keep your back straight," Lucy tells him, tapping his spinal cord. Ahren adjusts his posture. "You could become a permanent hunchback due to all the letter writing."

Ahren smirks a bit.

"Miss. Lucy," Ahren starts as she begins folding a pillowcase on her own, "aren't the men supposed to lead the waltz?"

"Traditionally, yes," Lucy replies, "but what happens when the man has no idea how to waltz?"

"True."

It was surprising to be receiving etiquette advice from the maid thought the method of folding laundry. Her apron doesn't mean anything less, it was just unexpected.

"Not to mention." Lucy leans in closer to Ahren's ear and whispers, "ladies love a man who knows how to fold laundry."

Ahren nods at that. Even with all the maids and help to do the laundry for him, there was something beneficial in being able to do those tasks by himself.

"Well, in that case," Ahren starts. He picks up another bed sheet and fans it out to Lucy. "May I have this bed sheet?"

"Make sure your folds are sharp, Mr. Schreave," Lucy repeats before picking up her ends.

* * *

 **Lucy and Ahren...who would've thought that I'd have a chapter based on those two.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- a trip across the world**


	63. Photo 63: Old Faces in New Asia

**Okay, so I was just going through (spoilers) Elise's wikia page and it said that she wasn't present at Maxon and America's wedding and I think I wrote her in it for one of the earlier chapters ... whoops. Let's just pretend that she was there just for the sake of this story.**

* * *

Photo #63: Old Faces in New Asia

From what Eadlyn knows about Illéa's history, New Asia and Illéa were at war. After her father became king, he drew up a truce between the two countries and enlisted his former suitor, Ms. Elise Whisks, as Illéa's ambassador for New Asia. Thus he ended the war which was staged by his own father to distract the Illéan people from the domestic problems they were facing in Illéa. As of right now, Eadlyn's father is working on a trade agreement but they're not sure if it'll work or not.

Eadlyn recalls that sometimes her mother and Miss. Elise would share the often business call that sometimes turned personal, occasionally asking how their families are and stuff like that. There were times where even Miss. Marlee would be in on a three-way call. It was touching to know that women who were once young adolescents competing for the heart of a prince could still converse decades later like mature women. Eadlyn wonders if her suitors will stay in touch after her Selection like they did for her father and her grandfather.

The next photo on the wall is a diplomatic picture taking place in a parliament office. It's from a newspaper and has Eadlyn's parents stand face-to-face with Miss. Elise and her husband. That was when they all took a trip to New Asia when they were all younger. Eadlyn doesn't remember much since it was a long time ago, before Osten was born, but there was a lot of food to eat.

-o-

America and Maxon walk through the New Asia airport holding each other's hands as reporters take numerous pictures of them and asking rapid fire questions. With their free hands, America and Maxon hold their kids close to them and protecting their faces from the camera flashes. When they reach their car, the driver opens both of the doors as the airport's security blocks off everyone who either has a camera or a recorder. America puts her seven-year-old twins in first before herself and Maxon carries three-year-old Kaden around to the other side of the car.

Once the doors are closed and the car starts driving, America and Maxon finally relax. Their kids, on the other hand, sit up on their knees and look out the window as if nothing happened. They look at how different New Asia is from Illéa and share amazement with one another.

"Oh my..." Maxon says tiredly, putting a hand to his forehead. "They all ask the same questions just with different words."

America laugh a little. "That's the world of journalism. They try to trick you with their words just so you'll mess up and that'll be the headline of the century." She waves her hands across her face, as if she was displaying something. "Breaking news: King Maxon contradicts himself."

America laughs, Maxon's tries to.

After a long car ride, Maxon and America along with their three kids arrive at New Asia's Embassy. America steps out of the car and is amazed by the building before her eyes. The antiqueness of the embassy looked amazing with it's multitude of colors, America couldn't even begin to imagine what it would look like at night. Her and Maxon walk up the pathway, their kids just a few steps in from of them. Asian representatives bow as they pass with serious expression on their faces, Maxon and America nod their thanks as their kids look up to see if they'll crack a smile. (Some did).

Once they're inside, the Schreaves are faced with all these influential people. They all bow in recognition and respect for the royals. As they all return to what they were previously doing, one person stands out to personally greet them.

The few years that have passed have been kind to Elise. Her jet-black hair has been cut short which compliments her grey pantsuit. She still dresses elegantly and demure, looking as professional as one could be. She gives Maxon a two-cheek kiss, a gentle hug to America, and a happy smile and wave for the kids.

"Your kids have grown so much," Elise says, looking at the three of them in admiration. She looks over her shoulders. "I assume your three must be hungry. I'll have some - "

"Mama!" Another voice calls.

Elise turns around and sees a little boy running up to her. He hugs her at her knees and when he looks up, Maxon and America open their mouth at the cuteness. He shares her dark hair and eyes, really resembling his mother.

"Aiden," Elise says to her son before starting to talk in her language. "Where's Bà?"

Aiden shrugs as a man wearing a business suit runs up to them.

"Sorry, my Huā," the man, Elise's husband, says to her as he leans forwards to pick up their son. "I looked away for one second and then he was gone."

Elise smiles dearly at him. "Ken, meet King Maxon and Queen America from Illéa along with their kids."

Ken says his greeting as he bows. Aiden gives them a small wave as he gives a toothy smile.

"As I was saying," Elise continues, "you all must be hungry from your long trip. Ken, what is there to eat?"

"Fried Edamame?" He guesses. "Spring rolls? Bahn Mi bites? There's a lot of food." He looks at the three Schreave kids. "Come with me so you could see for yourselves and pick what you want. The food's great."

Elise smiles as she watches her husband walk off with the Schreave kids, watching his face light up as he describes what each delicacy is to the kids.

"Your kids are lovely," Elise tells Maxon and America.

The two of them smile, returning the compliment. They chit-chat for a little, Elise saying how she would want to have at least one more son just so Aiden could have company or at least someone to run around the embassy with - that is, when he's here. But when the catching up conversation is over, it's time to get down to business.

"Elise," Maxon starts, "we're going to need to talk about a possible trade agreement..."

* * *

 **Elise had two sons, I know, but let's just assume that the other one wasn't born yet.**

 **All the Chinese words are from Google translate and here are the translations:**

 **Mama - Mommy / Bà - Daddy / Huā - Flower**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- every mother's favorite day is coming up.**


	64. Photo 64: The Singer Women

**I almost forgot to say Happy Mother's Day before publishing this. So ... Happy Mother's Day.**

 **If this chapter ever has or starts with a sad mood, just know that I just listened to 'Sign of the Times' by Harry Styles for the first time and it brought me to tears; especially since the meaning of the song is a mother who just gave birth to a newborn baby but the mother is told that she has only five minutes left to live. I mean, the song is beautiful and this is my Mother's Day chapter. Also, the song is on repeat.**

* * *

Photo #64: The Singer Women

And in the middle of all the redheads in the next photo, Eadlyn spots herself as the soul brunette. There was her mother, her grandmother, her aunts May and Kenna, and her cousin Astra. In other words, they were all the redheads on the family tree with that one brunette. Each woman in there (minus Eadlyn) was pretty much a copy. If you lined them all up in a straight line, they would basically be clones. She pretty much sees that photo as an apple tree and she's the one spoiled one.

It was a surprise to all of them that Eadlyn came out as a dark brunette, not even a redhead or a blond. When everyone realized that she took after Grandma Amberly, Grandma Magda's words were most notable.

 _"Amberly is a beautiful woman who I still greatly respect to this day, but it would've been nice for Eady to take after me!"_

Those words always make Eadlyn smile, especially when she looks at the photo of them all together. She could picture Amberly in that group hug as well, breaking her regal form to mesh in. Then Eadlyn wouldn't have been the only brunette in the pile of redheads. Then it dawns on Eadlyn that this photo was the last Mother's Day that Leo and Astra spent with their mom. She rapidly blinks back her tears, keeping her vision clear as she prays that her own mother lives till her next special holiday.

-o-

"Today is my holiday!" Magda sings as she prances through the palace.

Despite her advanced years and grandchildren, Magda still has the heart and soul of a woman half her age. It's remarkable how much youth she still has (though she claims it never left her), but someone has to be able to keep up with her growing number of grandchildren.

"Settle down, Mom," Kenna says, smiling brightly.

Magda looks at her eldest daughter with slightly narrowed eyes.

"I remember a certain someone being excited for Mother's Day after Astra was born."

Magda nudges Kenna who concedes in trying to stop her mother from being loud. From beside the both of them, May lightly laughing to herself. It's funny because even America was the same when she was pregnant with the twins.

Then, Maxon walks out from a nearby room and Magda joyfully bursts out when she sees him.

"There's my beautiful son-in-law!" She exclaims, startling Maxon before she kisses his cheek.

"Happy Mother's Day, Magda," Maxon says. He looks over at his sister-in-law. "And to you, Kenna."

Kenna smiles before hugging Maxon. Then he gives May the tightest hug of them all. He swings her around a little and she still shrieks of excitement whenever he would do that.

"Where's Ames?" May asks Maxon.

"Still getting ready," Maxon replies.

"Did she get breakfast in bed?" Magda asks.

She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms at Maxon. Her tone and stare dictate that her question really meant, _'she better have had breakfast in bed.'_ Lucky for him, he did the deed successfully.

"Of course she did," Maxon replies as if serving his wife on her holoday wasn't even an option. In fact, it was more of a pleasure for him and the kids. "The kids and I worked extremely hard on the perfect omelette."

As the four of them catch up, May sees America approach them. Given that today's a casual day, she's wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt with a cardigan. America opens her eyes wide and May runs over to her. Maxon suddenly gets trampled once Kenna and Magda went to go hug their other redhead.

Maxon looks over at the women and can't distinguish which head of red hair belongs to who since all their faces are buried into each other.

"Auntie America!" Astra exclaims, running from across the castle.

She jumps into the group hug and pratically dissolves into it. Maxon and James, who reappeared after following Astra's run here, have to both rub their eyes in order to see into that hug. It just looks like a pile of red curls, laughs, and smiles. That's it.

"Hold on," Magda says, popping her head out from the hug. "We're missing someone. Eadlyn Schreave come down here!"

Seconds later, Eadlyn comes running down the stairs. She sees the massive group hug and wants to bolt away but Maxon and James grab her arms and escort her over to get eaten. Eadlyn didn't want to get involved in the hugging much, especially since in this case she would be the only brunette.

"Ah, my beautiful Singer women," Magda says.

That statement makes a lot of problems for most of the other women in that hug.

"I was born a Schreave," Eadlyn says.

"I was born an Orders," Astra says.

"I married a Schreave," America says.

"I married an Orders," Kenna says.

Magda frowns a little. "Well, I married a Singer and what I say goes, especially since it's my special holiday."

Nobody really bothered to correct Magda anymore about the fact that she wasn't the only mother in the room. She was determined enough to convince anyone else otherwise so it'd be bette to just go with it as if it was the truth.

"I'm still a Singer," May chimes in brightly. Magda ruffles her hair.

"If you came out of my womb, then you are a Singer," Magda states, eyeing Kenna and America. She then looks at her granddaughters. "And you two are also Singers because without me, your mothers wouldn't be mothers."

Astra and Eadlyn nod their heads. Maxon and James would say differently but keep those comments to themselves since Magda would always be right (that strategy is called 'How To Please Your Mother-In-Law #1: just agree with her'). Besides, Magda would actually throw her shoe at them (and she had a good arm).

"Here's to the Singer Women!"

* * *

 **I don't know if this was really a Mother's Day chapter but oh well. I consider it to be one.**

 **Also, was Astra a redhead? Because I don't remember it saying anything so I just went with it.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "What would you like to eat?" "Nothing that you're serving."**


	65. Photo 65: Craving Cheeseburgers

**I would just like to start by saying: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WRITER BUDDY AND FELLOW QUEEN Anj0921! You must know that I came up with this chapter very early in our PM messages, probably before we hit 100 messages and now look, we're at around 1450 messages! ****Ah, how time flies. I promised you a funny and cute chapter and that I have provided (I hope).**

* * *

Photo #65: Craving Cheeseburgers

For some reason, Eadlyn never found an interest in unhealthy food. She's seen the advertisements for various fast-food chains everywhere and has read articles on their success as an industry, but she just never understood why there was such a hype. She just saw them as greasy and unhealthy because that's _exactly_ what they were. Everyone knew how threatening those kinds of food were for their health but that didn't stop them from eating it.

Her mother was naturally a healthy person, minus the occasional pastry (or _pastries_ ). The same goes for Eadlyn, her father, and brothers. However, there was this one time when her mother would even succumb to the temptations of fast-food, but it wasn't entirely her fault...or it may be depending on how you would interpret the situation.

Eadlyn, as someone who was present during the situation, blames Osten.

-o-

"What would you like to eat?" Maxon asks her.

During America's pregnancies, Maxon always let her choose what to eat. Due to her cravings, her taste for meals changes a lot. Some days, she would want a garden salad and the next, it could be a filet. Maxon has nothing to complain about (not only because America is carrying his children) since he loves the variety of food each day. Even during her third pregnancy with their fourth child, the rules remain the same.

America looks up at Maxon and hesitates, tapping her fingers on her baby bump. She isn't sure what she wants to eat since it's really all up to her unborn child. He's the one in control of the cravings.

"I want a cheeseburger," America states.

Maxon is surprised for a moment due to the strange request.

"What kind of cheeseburger?" Maxon asks. He isn't even sure if there are different kinds of whatever the hell a cheeseburger is.

"Not one you and your chef can make," America responds bluntly.

Maxon doesn't respond because he's confused. He waits for America to continue talking because commenting on what America says when she's being blunt is the equivalent of walking across a strip of land filled with landmines - both dangerous territories to cross.

"I want a cheeseburger, but not a gourmet one from the chef. I want a greasy one from a fast food joint somewhere in Angeles. One with more cheese than actual burger. I want also French fries." She gasps. "Onion rings as well!"

She claps a little excited, her mouth watering in delight at the food she just mentioned. She looks at Maxon who is standing in shock and a bit of disgust.

"...how about a yogurt instead?" Maxon timidly suggests.

"Dammit, Maxon, if I wanted a yogurt I would've asked for one!" She yells back.

His brain is waving a white flag, telling him to surrender on the dangerous territory he's currently standing on.

"America, you're eating for two," Maxon tries to argue, putting his hands on her baby bump.

America slowly nods. "That's why I ordered onion rings."

Consider Maxon in defeat because he had no way out of doing that. He figures that after three kids, it's better for him to just nod his head when his wife would request something. Besides, during his own Selection, America wanted jeans so he provided. The only difference now is that she wants a cheeseburger and a couple of sides (also something small for the kids, she adds, and himself if he wants - which he doesn't).

Maxon got a maid to order the food over the phone. She was shocked as well but what the queen wants, she will definitely get. Even the delivery dude thought it was a joke when an order came from the palace but lord behold he got an amazing tip. (Not to mention that the Royal family was given more bonus points for their likability from the fast-food fanatics of Illéa).

Maxon approaches America and his three kids with paper bags in his arms. As he hands it to them, America lights up with excitement as she takes the brown bag with some oil stains on it. The kids look at it with fear for the unknown contents in the bag. The only concern Maxon has at the moment is that the odd smell of fast-food will never leave his shirt.

"Maxon Schreave," America says, opening her paper bag and pulling out her cheeseburger. "I love you so much!"

She begins eating it in absolute delight. Maxon is happy, despite him being against what his wife is feeding their unborn child. That just goes to show that the mantra, _'happy wife equals happy life'_ is absolutely true.

"Daddy, what is this?" Eadlyn asks, looking at her paper bag.

Maxon shrugs. "I'm actually not sure."

"The box inside says chicken nuggets."

Maxon knew that kids got chicken nuggets with a side of fries (which is what the person on the phone recommended when he was ordering it), he just said he didn't know when Eadlyn asked since he had no idea if chicken nuggets actually contained chicken.

"There's a toy in here!" Kaden exclaims excitedly.

He pulls out a toy truck and begins rolling on the table, making motor noises. America laughs to herself a little as she eats a crunchy onion ring.

"These aren't that bad," Ahren says, nibbling on a chicken nugget.

Eadlyn just gives her bag of food to Ahren since she isn't interested in venturing inside of it. Ahren happily takes it. Eadlyn wipes her hands on her jeans before walking away in hopes to find something better to snack on.

Quickly, Maxon takes a picture of America as she's in the middle of biting into her cheeseburger. America looks up at him with glared eyes.

"What was that for?" America asks, expecting a good reason for a photo (which Maxon always seemed to have).

"This is evidence against you for whenever you claim to be _super healthy_ ," he replies, throwing those last two words in air quotes.

America frowns at him. "Don't blame me, blame the baby - which in all due respect is your fault."

Maxon would argue that baby-making is a two person progress but like before, that would also result in entering dangerous territory. (Besides, America could use the argument 'yeah, well, are you the one carrying a whole new life in your body and expected to push it out?' To which Maxon would get blown up on dangerous territory).

"Thought so," America states proudly.

She picks up the small box of French fries and holds it out to him. Maxon flinches back as if it was a box of spiders. America rolls her eyes.

"Just try a French fry," America says.

"No," Maxon replies.

"C'mon, just think of this like Amberly trying to get you to eat cauliflower."

"But cauliflower is a vegetable!"

"French fries are potatoes which are vegetables!"

"Those have been fried and salted! They have lost all credit as vegetables! I'm sure those are just fried things with no authentic potatoes."

"Maxon..."

"America..."

"Just one?"

Maxon doesn't want to but succumbs to trying it anyways. Besides, like before, _'happy wife equals happy life.'_ He takes one fry and eats it, keeping it in his teeth to avoid his tongue so he wouldn't actually have to taste it - but that doesn't work.

America raises an eyebrow with a small smile. "C'mon, you like it."

Maxon doesn't respond with words but with a shake of his head. He will never eat those again.

"Mommy," Ahren says, "Kaden and I were just wondering but is it true that we get to eat all this because you're pregnant?"

"Yes, baby," America replies. "Why do you ask?"

"I like these nuggets," Kaden states, "please get pregnant more often."

Maxon and America have no response for their youngest son. She just rests a hand on her baby bump in exhaustion from the thought of having a fifth child with the fourth one still on the way and Maxon is still trying to fully understand what it is that Kaden said to him and America. Maybe the fast food was giving him hallucinations? Nobody will ever know since fast food itself is a mystery.

* * *

 **Say whatever you want about junk food but I love it.**

 **Anj0921 , this idea came from that one time we were talking about McDonalds. I really hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- seeing double? Triple? Quadruple?**


	66. Photo 66: Mini Maxons

**! IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE END!**

 **I should have mentioned this a few chapters ago but hooray on 200 reviews!**

 **I highly doubt that any of you are fathers but Happy Father's Day!**

* * *

Photo #66: Mini Maxons

 _"Ahren, look at you, growing up to be a man like your father."_

 _"Kaden, you're like a mini copy of your father."_

 _"Osten, you really are a daddy's boy."_

Not one gala goes by where Eadlyn doesn't hear that statement, especially when it would be repeated constantly. There were times where Eadlyn could predict when those statements would arise based on people's facial expressions. A look of adoration and a smile on the face were usual indicators.

After years of all those comments (that still go one to this day ever so often), the boys finally decided to take advantage of their similarities to their father to make a joke out of it. Their father didn't catch on until he had a camera pointed in his face.

Eadlyn laughs a little to herself as she looks at the next photo which she would call as a mini stack of dominos or a deconstructed Russian nesting doll. Each of them perfectly placed on the staircase, equidistant from one another. From a distance, they could possibly look like clones.

-o-

Maxon yawns as he rubs his eyes awake. He looks over to America's side of the bed and sees that it's empty. He sighs, disappointed in his early-bird of a wife for catching the worm without him. Maxon just decides to get up and start the day on his own by freshening up and getting dressed in his usual work clothes that consist of a solid white button-up shirt and simple khakis. His hair was lightly tousled with a brush. Nothing too fancy, nothing too casual.

He walks out of his room to head downstairs to join his family for breakfast.

Maxon passes by Ahren's room just in time to see his son step out of the door. Dressed for the morning, Ahren is wearing a solid white button-up top and simple khakis.

"Morning, Dad," Ahren greets.

"Morning," Ahren replies.

Maxon stares at Ahren who still hasn't moved from the doorframe he seems to be clinging onto. The two of them don't exchange words until the silence just start to become weird.

"Are you just going to stand there all day?" Maxon asks his eldest son.

Ahren swings back and forth on the door, keeping his toes on the ground. Maxon still waits for an answer that he doesn't seem to be getting.

"I'll be there in a moment," Ahren says before closing the door.

Maxon blinks, not completely sure on what just happened.

Whatever.

He just continues making his way downstairs since he just figured that Ahren is being a teenage boy with his teenage secrets. Maxon doesn't find anything major about that since he was once a teenage boy with his own teenage secrets.

Next, Maxon sees Kaden pop out of his room. Kaden was also dressed for the day in a solid white top and simple khakis. Like Ahren, Kaden just stands at the doorway except instead of teetering back and forth on the spot, his eyes scan Maxon from head to toe. Maxon stands on the spot, oddly waiting for something to come out of all this.

"Coming down for breakfast?" Maxon questions, not sure why he's asking a question that should be a given.

Kaden opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He takes a second to formulate a response.

"I hear Ahren calling me," Kaden says.

Before Maxon could comment, Kaden runs past him towards Ahren's room. Maxon turns around a bit confused as to why two out of his three sons are acting downright bizarre, and he didn't even hear Ahren call Kaden. Maxon figures that he could think about this and what could be going on, but to him, it doesn't seem too alarming so he just carries on with his day.

Then, what is possibly the strangest part of this already-seeming sttrange day, happens: Maxon passes Osten's room and sees his youngest son wearing a solid white top and simple khakis all topped off with a ridiculous blond wig.

Maxon says nothing since he's still trying to process what he's seeing. Osten says nothing because he's waiting for his dad to say something first. Osten smiles a little as Maxon does the same but warily.

"Should I even ask?" Maxon questions.

"Do you want to?" Osten asks back.

Maxon thinks about that for a little. "Carry on."

Osten was just something else which is what made him completely lovable.

Maxon approaches the staircase to head downstairs and hears footsteps following him. He stops to turn around and see Ahren two steps behind him, Kaden two steps behind Ahren, and Osten two steps behind Kaden. Maxon pauses to examine what he sees and then turns around to continue walking but doesn't move. Instead, he looks back at his boys to try and pick out the obvious odd feature in all of them that he can't seem to notice. It doesn't help that his sons are all giving him the same weird smile.

"Look at my boys," America says from the bottom of the staircase, holding Maxon's camera in her hands.

"Happy Father's Day, dad!" Eadlyn exclaims from beside her mother.

"Happy Father's Day, dad!" The boys add.

It suddenly hits Maxon that it's Father's Day. How could he possibly have forgotten?

Maxon continues looking at his boys. As America takes the picture of the Schreave boys on the staircase, Maxon smiles as he nods, finally understanding what was going on. He begins laughing whole-heartedly. All of the Schreave boys are wearing a solid white top and simple khakis with their hair (or blond wig in Osten's case) tousled in the same way.

For Father's Day, the Schreave boys dressed up as their father.

What a perfect gift.

* * *

 **I think I speak for all of us when I say that duplicates of Maxon Schreave will be a dream come true.**

 **Okay, just to let you know that I came up with this idea back when I thought that Osten was a blond like Maxon. Then I realized that Osten was a redhead but I didn't want to scrap this idea since I loved it so I tweaked it a bit. I kinda like that I put Osten in a stupid wig.**

 **Call this a coincidence, but I was working on this while studying cloning for a test I had.**

 **! Anyways, about that important note: I have two Selection one-shots ready for publication but I can't decide which to publish first so I'm letting you all pick. There is a poll on my profile that shows the titles but I will not be revealing any plots. Both of them will go up eventually. Just vote! If you don't have an account on here then just leave me a review on which one should go up first. You could vote multiple times that way.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "We're going to die!" "Quit being melodramatic, we're not going to die!" "Lady Brice, take the wheel!"**


	67. Photo 67: Take the Wheel! (SP)

**This is a sneak peek for a new short story that I have written for Doctor Who. All details about it will be revealed at the end.**

* * *

Photo #67: Take the Wheel!

Eadlyn remembers the story of the next photo all too well and if she were to be dramatic about it, she would say that it was the worst (barely) ten minutes of her life.

To give a little context, Ahren and Eadlyn were two teenagers who were bored out of their minds. Then the following thought occurred to them at the same time: why don't they attempt to drive. Every other teenager their age was learning to drive and even though they didn't _have_ to learn, they just wanted to experience it. Besides, their late paternal grandmother made their father learn so they might as well learn just for the sake of it.

The only problem at the beginning was that nobody was willing and available to teach them. Some were actually busy with their duties whereas others merely said they were since they didn't want to be stuck in the passenger seat of two inexperienced drivers. (Looking back and at the photo on the wall, Eadlyn now understands why the maids decided to redo their polishing job on all the furniture in the entire palace).

The savior of the hour was surprisingly Lady Brice. For someone so petite and orderly, it shocked the twins how she could sort out even the most chaotic situation and not misplace one single hair on her head.

-o-

"Ahren..." Kaden and Osten whine as they follow their older brother around.

"We need a third player," Kaden states.

"And dad's too busy doing King stuff," Osten adds.

Then another round of begging ensues. Ahren sighs. He can't say no to his little brothers simply because they're his little brothers, but he had prior commitments to tend to first.

"Give me an hour," Ahren says.

Kaden and Osten cheer as they run off to their toy cars. Ahren laughs to himself, figuring that this will be useful for two reasons: to give himself some time to actually learn and drive and car, and so his brothers could use this as a warmup before he beats them as racing toy cars.

"Ahren," Maxon calls before he could make it outside. He passes his son his camera. "Make sure you capture that moment for me."

"Will do," Ahren replies.

Ahren walks out the palace doors and skips down the steps to find Eadlyn standing on the cobblestone pathway. She turns around and smiles as her twin approaching her. Both of them are excited and a bit nervous for this since driving a car looks easy. (Little do they know the truth behind being the driver).

Lady Brice pulls up in front of them and stops the car. She takes a moment before stepping out of the driver's seat and straightening her pencil skirt. There was nothing casual about this woman: her outfit consisted of a business skirt and heels with a blazer. Even Eadlyn showed up to this in jeans. In Brice's defense, the twins have never seen this woman wearing anything not made for an office (and Brice was doing this on her lunch break since nobody else in the entire palace wanted to be in this position).

"I swear, neither of you better get a scratch on this," Bruce says, looking at the twins individually and more than once. "This is my personal car, not some rental or one that's been sitting in the palace garage for who-knows-how-long. Got that?"

Ahren and Eadlyn nod at the simple instructions: don't ruin Lady Brice's car.

"Good, now, who's going first?" Brice asks.

"I'll go," Eadlyn volunteers.

Brice opens her arm to the driver's seat. As Eadlyn makes her way over, Brice walks around the car to sit in the passenger's seat as Ahren sits in the back. The doors close and lock as they all buckle their seatbelts. Eadlyn smiles through her excited nerves as Brice takes a breath and pushes her hair behind her ears.

"Okay, this is how you drive," Brice says, beginning her explanation.

Both the twins listen thoroughly as Brice explains every small detail about the different parts of the car (even down to how the radio worked) and how to physically drive it. Brice thrives out of the questions they ask her. Ahren seems to have more questions and that worries Eadlyn a little since she's the one in front of the wheel so she expected to have the most questions out of the bunch.

"You ready?" Brice asks.

It takes Eadlyn a second to process that Brice was talking to her but she nods anyways. That response came automatically. Eadlyn figures that she'll just go with it and hope for the best. Besides, how bad could this _really_ go?

Eadlyn lightly pushes the gas pedal and jumps a little when the car starts moving. Ahren gives a mini applause as Brice dons her praise for her good job. Brice instructs how to take a turn and instead of going slowly and gently, Eadlyn turns the wheel more than show should and the small amount of panic causes her to put more force on the gas pedal.

"We're going to die!" Ahren yells, flying back in his seat.

"Quit being melodramatic, we're not going to die!" Brice yells back.

Eadlyn starts to panic at the words being said that causes the car to move faster. Ahren takes a picture of a frazzled Eadlyn and a calm Brice sitting in the front seats to remember his last moments as a living boy.

"Really?!" Brice yells, trying to get order back in the car.

"It's in case there's some conspiracy on how I die!" Ahren yells back.

"You are being no help!"

"I don't know how to be a help."

As they argue, they're not really helping Eadlyn who gets more overwhelmed. If anything, they should've been helping her since she's the one who has control of the motorized vehicle they're all sitting in.

"Lady Brice, take the wheel!" Eadlyn panics, letting go of the wheel.

Or not.

Eadlyn screams, throwing her hands up to cover her face. Brice, remaining calm and collected during all this chaos, immediately unbuckles her own seatbelt and stretches forwards to grab onto the steering wheel, slightly lying on Eadlyn's lap. Once Brice has a bit of control of the car, she takes one hand off and uses it to push Eadlyn's leg down so it presses on the brake pedal. The car comes to a screeching stop, all three of them swearing that they could smell the rubber from the tires.

"We're alive!" Eadlyn gasps.

"Well..." Brice mutters, brushing her hair back with her hands. "Good first attempt, Eadlyn. Ahren, you want your turn?"

The two women turn around and see that Ahren isn't in the car anymore. They look out the window and see Ahren is already outside, running to play with Osten and Kaden with their toy cars. They can't blame him though: toy cars are much safer than the real thing.

* * *

 **Just know that I barely know what a car is so don't come to this chapter hoping to gain wisdom on how to drive.**

 **Here is the story info: (it's a Doctor Who fic)**

 ** _River, Take the Wheel!_ \- Teenagers River Song and John Smith reconnect after not seeing each other for a long time and try to figure out the truth behind each other all while trying to escape the cops. (Teenage AU) (River x Eleven short story)**

 **! Remember to vote on the poll on my page for the Selection one-shot you want to see first!**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "I think all this violin needs is a little tuning..."**


	68. Photo 68: Just a Little Flat

**This idea came from _Meese_ a long time ago. I'm sorry this is only being written now but these kinds of chapters take a lot of work (which will be further explained at the end).**

* * *

Photo #68: Just a Little Flat

If there was one thing out of many that Eadlyn loved most about her father, it was that he never gave up. If there was a law that he believed to be the best for Illéa, he would persist and persevere until he would get it approved by his cabinet. It's an admirable quality that she is glad to have inherited. She would have rather possess that than a musical gene.

Many photos have proven this and much more will prove the same already well-known fact: nobody in the Schreave, besides America, is nowhere close to being a musician. It's almost as if God above strictly declared that only America was to be a musician and everyone else should just bow at her musical abilities. But just like all the photos before and the photos to come, not even the word of a higher power will stop a non-musical Schreave from being musical.

Even the current photo of Eadlyn's father attempting to play the violin makes her cringe. She doesn't even have to be listening to her father play the instrument to know that it's being done badly. Her mother's horrified expression in the photo says enough.

That was definitely a time when Eadlyn's father should've just given up.

-o-

"Maxon, dear, you really don't have to do this," America says carefully.

"Nonsense!" Maxon exclaims. "I want to learn. I have heard you play and it is such a beautiful instrument."

America looks at him skeptically. "The violin is a hard instrument to learn without having a prior musical knowledge and no offense but you're as musical as half of a castanet."

Maxon blinks at that statement, keeping his head held high at an insult he didn't really understand. The only indication that told him it was an insult was that America said 'no offense' at the start. He actually has no idea what a castanet was. America stands by his side and only sighs as she takes out one of her violins (since Maxon bought her a few) and its corresponding bow.

America places the shoulder rest on Maxon's shoulder as she tightens the bow. She makes Maxon hold the violin as she rosins the bow (whatever that means. America explained the process and why it has to be done but all he heard was a buzz).

Then they switch: America takes the violin as she hands Maxon the bow.

America begins to tune the instrument. She would turn the peg and pluck the string, humming the correct note it should match, and then make the adjustments if needed. This is when America takes the chance to explain what the strings represent.

"Can't you use an electronic tuner?" Maxon suggests. "Pretty sure those would be more time efficient."

"Where's the fun in those?" America replies, continuing to sing as she tunes. Maxon figures that her method of tuning is better since America's voice was the most beautiful sound to ever enter his ears, no matter what she was doing with it.

"This is how you hold the bow," America says, taking Maxon's hand in hers. She changes the grip on his hand so that it balances out and holds the weight of the bow equally.

"This is uncomfortable," Maxon says. "My hand is cramping."

"You get used to it over time," America responds. "Same goes for the shoulder pad. Your hand should be relaxed though."

Maxon shrugs.

America straightens Maxon's back as she holds out the violin. With his free hand, America places it around the neck of the violin and guides Maxon's arm to bring the butt of the instrument to sit on the shoulder pad. She tilts the violin so the back of it rests on his collarbone and she lowers his chin to hold the instrument in place. With his hand holding the violin's neck, she arches it so his fingertips touch the strings that she explained earlier.

"Now, how to play," America says as she picks up Maxon's arm with the bow.

She places the flat side of the bow approximately halfway between the violin's bridge and fingerboard. America hovers it back and forth above the strings, showing Maxon how it's done. When he does it on his own, it makes a sound that's scratchy and squeaky at the same time. America shudders as Maxon jumps a little, immediately separating the bow from the violin.

"More pressure equals louder sound, but too much pressure makes it scratchy," America tells him. "If you play too close to the bridge, it may also sound scratchy."

"Then how do I make it _not_ sound scratchy?" Maxon questions.

"Less pressure and tilt the bow a little." She adjusts the bow for him.

Maxon tries playing a sound again, this time with less pressure, and the result was a sound that was less scratchy and less squeaky. America doesn't shudder as much this time around but Maxon seems proud of himself for his improvement.

"I believe I sound amazing," Maxon states, looking at America so that she'd agree.

America doesn't respond. Instead, she pretends to be doing something else so that he'd think she didn't hear him in the first place. She starts whistling a tune and Maxon attempts to match her song with the violin despite not yet knowing how to play any notes on the instrument yet, so the sounds he was making with the violin didn't match hers at all. America jumps a little, not expecting that (her last note whistled went up in a sharp pitch). She looks at her husband, actually a bit horrified.

"Allow me to serenade you," Maxon says, holding the bow up to the violin again.

"You really don't have to," America replies (or begs for the sake of her eardrums, the condition of her beloved violin, and the dignity of her husband - all in that order).

"I insist."

America smiles awkwardly, showing her full set of teeth. "Let me take the violin back for a moment. It's just a little flat."

* * *

 **If you are a violinist and this chapter offended you then I am so incredibly sorry. I don't play the violin and I certainly didn't mean any harm. Chapters that involve me actually writing a character showing a skill that I have to look up end up resulting in people get offended so just know that I wrote this to be funny, not harmful.**

 **! Make sure you cast your vote on my profile on which Selection OS you want to see first.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "buckle your seatbelts, we have a long trip ahead of us." (and hopefully a long chapter)**


	69. Photo 69: A Ride to Hongadura

**Anj0921 , my queen, you gave this idea to me about a thousand years ago and I'm just publishing it now.**

* * *

Photo #69: A Ride to Hongadura

"Oh, God..." Eadlyn mutters disgracefully to herself. "Not _this_ event."

The next photo on the wall makes Eadlyn's eyes open in absolute horror. It contains a certain patch of memories she tried to just block out, which worked for many years since it happened, but looking at this photo just ruined it for her and her mind.

"Great..." Eadlyn says, huffing a little in frustration. "Now, I have to not only remember that it happened but spend another several years of my life trying to forget it all over again."

The basic context of the events behind the photo (which was Eadlyn and her brothers - ten years ago - sitting in the backseat of the car) was a trip to go visit Eadlyn's maternal aunt, Adele. There was nothing wrong with visiting Aunt Adele and her kids. That was actually the best part of the whole event. However, what Eadlyn never _ever_ wants to remember is how they got to Adele's house from Angeles to Hongadura.

-o-

Maxon decided to take a week out of his schedule to take himself and his family to Hongadura. It's been a while since he has seen his Aunt Adele and her family and the same goes for them in return (minus what just happens to be on the media). Also considering that Osten was born two months ago, it's time for Maxon's side of the family to finally meet him. Adele's family could've just gone to the castle but Maxon thought it would be cool for the kids to experience Hongadura, where their grandmother grew up.

The thing is, Maxon wanted this to be a family trip which meant that he wanted to drive his family there himself. No issued driver, just him behind the wheel. It will not only be an amazing bonding time for the whole family but it will also be an unforgettable experience for the kids. For safety reasons, though, there will be secret service cars several miles ahead and several miles behind them to make sure that they are protected at all costs.

The three oldest Schreave kids stand in front of the car as Maxon and some butlers finish putting their bags in the trunk. America waits with the kids, bouncing baby Osten in the carrier that's strapped to her chest. America is a little upset that baby Osten is asleep now since that would mean he will wake up sometime during the car ride.

"Have you all gone to the bathroom?" America asks her kids.

They all nod. America eyes them harder.

"Are you all sure?"

They all nod again.

"We're not making any stops on the road, just to let you know."

America snickers as the kids run back inside. None of the kids probably had to go to the bathroom but the fact that they actually went to double-check makes America feel like a proud mother.

"Are you ready, love?" Maxon asks America, coming at her side.

"Endless hours on the road with three kids and a newborn, I _can't wait!_ " She exclaims sarcastically, receiving a laugh and quick kiss from Maxon.

Once the kids come back out from their bathroom visits, Maxon opens the backdoor for them. Since the car is a van, Kaden sits in the back while Ahren, Eadlyn, and Osten take up the middle row, Maxon's in the driver's seat and America's right next to him. As the kids buckle up, it takes about thirty minutes for Maxon and America to actually figure out how to work a car seat. When that was taken care of, it took another ten minutes to figure out how to put a sleeping baby in without waking him up.

Then they were on the road to Hongadura.

"Are we there yet?" Kaden asks.

"It's been ten minutes," Eadlyn responds.

Kaden blinks. "How far is Hongadura anyways?"

America sighs a little, looking at Maxon from the corner of her eyes. Both of them know that at this point, it will be a very long car ride to Hongadura.

After about an hour of driving, America dozes off in the front seat. The smooth ride makes for a great mattress which is also how Osten is still asleep. Kaden's in the back, reading one of the many books he brought along with him while the twins play endless card games against one another.

Maxon thinks to himself what a peaceful car ride this is and how they should do this more often. Then a stuffed elephant hits the back of his head and all hell suddenly breaks loose.

Osten starts crying.

The twins drop their playing cards and try to get Osten back to sleep by lightly singing a duet. Kaden pops up from behind and makes several funny faces which fail as an attempt to get Osten to calm down. Osten continues to cry. Even giving him a bottle, stuffed animal or his pacifier wouldn't work.

"Dad, what do we do?" Ahren asks.

Being behind the wheel, Maxon can't really do anything except wake up America with his elbow. Her eyes slowly open and she fixes her hair in the rearview mirror.

"Are we in Hongadura?" America asks.

Osten's crying answers her question as a seriousn no.

America tries to coddle Osten by turning around in her own seat but that isn't working. If anything, his wailing is getting louder by the second.

"I think I should get back there," America says. "Could you pull over?"

"We're on the highway so I can't," Maxon replies. "And to make the situation worse, the next exit isn't for another fifty kilometers."

America huffs, Osten still crying in the background. There was no way in hell that she was just going to let her baby cry for another fifty kilometers nor was she going to tell Maxon to step on the gas just to get to the exit faster. Then, an irresponsible and stupid idea comes to her mind which makes her entire face perk up.

"I hate that beautiful face you make," Maxon tells her.

"Me too," America says. She faces her kids who aren't screaming their lungs out. "Ahren, unbuckle your seatbelt for a moment."

Maxon grits his teeth, already hating what's happening and praying that not only that nothing dangerous happens to the kids or his wife, but that whatever this plan is succeeds.

Ahren skeptically follows his mother's order.

"Now," America instructs, "climb over the seat."

Ahren doesn't do anything at first since he has no idea what _exactly_ his mother is asking him to do and his father is strictly objecting it. Following his mother's obscure hand gestures and ignoring his dad, Ahren carefully squeezes over the seat and falls into the seat behind him where Kaden sits. He grunts because he landed on Kaden and his books and Kaden gasps because Ahren landed on his books.

"Now, Eady," America says, "scoot over."

Eadlyn, happy that she got the easier task, unbuckles her seatbelt and slides over. Since she was in the middle seat before, she just slid over to the edge. America unbuckles her seatbelt which really raises red flags for Maxon.

"What are you doing!?" Maxon questions.

"Same thing as Ahren," America replies. "Well, kind of."

Before Maxon could say anything (even if he weere to say anythig against her plan, she would've ignored him just like the kids did), America is already out of her seat. She cranes over and does her best to avoid slamming into something or hitting her head against the car's roof. She awkwardly sits in the vacant seat Eadlyn made and smiles brightly at baby Osten.

Osten immediately lights up as his mother touches his damp cheeks. His crying stop as he proceeds to suck on America's fingers.

Maxon sighs out of relief. "For a moment, I thought he needed a diaper change."

America suddenly cringes. "Spoke too soon."

When the pungent smell hits them, the kids all scream as they open the windows for gusts of fresh air while trying their absolute bests not to vomit. America and Maxon panic, not knowing what to do now since this is a bigger emergency than Osten crying. And Osten, like the baby he is in desperate need of a changing, just laughs.

* * *

 **Is it possible to drive to Hongadura from Angeles? I have no idea but just pretend that it is. Besides, if it's possiblw to drive from Toronto to Florida then I think Hongadura to Angeles is possible. Okay, so my family doesn't drive at all so my experience being on a long car ride is limited. Hopefully, this seemed legit.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "Bow down to me, I am in charge!"**


	70. Photo 70: Queen Eadlyn

**Meese , or should I say Jesse (if you didn't want me to call you that then I am so sorry), I looked at all the ideas you suggested and I am happy to say that I already had all of those planned *nervous laugh*. Well, except for one. Great minds think alike *winks***

 **Fun fact about this chapter, it was supposed to be a sneak peek for another one of my (crappy) stories but I scrapped the story as a whole because like I just said a few words ago, it was crap by the time I got to writing the second chapter (or more loke the prologue). I didn't want to waste this idea - since it will be a gift for all you Kile/Eadlyn shippers - so here it is.**

* * *

Photo #70: Queen Eadlyn

When Eadlyn was a child, her favorite game to play the role of the Queen of Illéa whenever her parents were in an important meeting. It was a game she would play more as a child, since it gave her something to do that didn't stress out her nanny, but when she got older, she would be given more actual responsibilities to do while the meetings were in progress. That later turned into being a part of the meetings herself.

As a child, she always thrived out of being queen, out of being in charge. Those were also the days when she thought being a queen only consisted of wearing pretty gowns and matching pretty crowns. Now, she knows better but that didn't stop her from still wanting to be queen. If anything, the work included gave the role more purpose. Then again, as if she had a choice as to whether or not she would be queen. It was a definite yes in the making (especially now more than ever given the country's current state).

With that in mind, Eadlyn still wishes her current days as a royal were the same as they were in the photo she's currently smiling nostalgically at. Her extremely younger self is sitting on her father's throne wearing a poofy purple dress and a cute tiara.

-o-

"You look so cute on your father's throne, Eadlyn!" Her nanny exclaims, holding a camera up to snap a photo. "Now, smile!"

Four-year-old Eadlyn smiles as bright as she can up to the point where her cheeks are cramping up and her teeth hurt. Her nanny, like any mothe would, takes many more photos of the span of a second than needed. Despite possibly using all the storage on the camera and knowing how Maxon and America are when it comes to pictures of their kids (especially Maxon), they will keep every single photo that is taken, no matter how many duplicates of the same photo there are. It will be kept.

"Beautiful, Princess," the nanny says, finally lowering the camera just like Eadlyn's smile. "Do you want me to get your snack now?"

"Yes, please," Eadlyn says excitedly, nodding her head. Who could say no to food, especially when your stomach is growling for something to eat.

The nanny leaves Eadlyn alone as she runs off to get a snack. Eadlyn remains seated on the throne, looking at the high ceilings and chandeliers that are way above her. Then she hears someone come in. Thinking it's her nanny with her snack, Eadlyn looks down with a smile but then sees that it's only Kile. Eadlyn's smile suddenly turns into a face of disgust. Out of all the people in the entire castle to walk in at this exact moment, it has to be the one person she liked the least.

"Am I suppposed to bow down to you?" Kile asks Eadlyn, walking closer to her throne.

"Yes," Eadlyn replies with her head held high, capturing the full essence of being a queen.

Kile just stands there, not bowing at all. Eadlyn crosses her arms even though she should've seen that coming.

"Why are you wearing purple?" Kile asks this time.

"Purple means royalty," Eadlyn responds as if she should've already known that. A firther explanation is not needed since that statement alone should be self-explanatory.

Eadlyn smiles proudly as a scoff escapes Kile's mouth.

"Oh..." Kile responds, nodding his head. "I thought it meant bossy."

Eadlyn frowns. She probably should've seen that coming as well. "I am banishing you from my kingdom."

Kile smirks. "Suit yourself, Queen Bossy."

* * *

 **I didn't think that this chapter would end up this short because I thought it would've been shorter. That whole banishment part was an unintentional foreshadowing.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- it will be the first sneak peek from the OS poll**


	71. Photo 71: Confess (SP)

**And this is the sneak peek for the one-shot that you all voted for! I'm all for that self-promotion. All the information about the actual one-shot will be at the end.**

* * *

Photo #71: Confess

Eadlyn was never one to believe in myths or urban legends. She's a woman of pure facts and the kinds of words associated with myths and urban legends are pure fiction in her ears. Hearing those only gave her joy since she only interpreted those are fluff and comedic entertainment. She was never even spooked by them. If anything, myths and urban legends never fazed her. Not even one.

Well, except one.

It was a myth that originated in her own home. In the past, when Eadlyn, her siblings, and the Woodwork children were younger, they heard about this one specific myth from staff whispers so they had to get to the bottom of it. When they asked their parents, it was a sensitive topic that they would often beat around the bush or just avoid it overall. Looking at past articles from the media were also a total bust because they were either vague articles or conspiracy theories removed by the royals.

Looking at the photo of her mother and the woman this theory is based on, it's hard to believe. Eadlyn sees a beautiful woman whose glamor would get people talking about her looks rather than her death. Her name, given its new context, sends shivers down Eadlyn's spine.

This woman is Celeste Newsome.

-o-

"So, this is our plan," Kile says, unrolling a piece of construction paper that has a list of steps written in different colored crayons. "We've all heard the stories about the Women's Room or as it's lesser known as The Newsome Library. Our plan is to spend one night in that room and catch the ghost that our parents will never tell us about."

"Maybe they had to make a promise to a higher power to not tell us about," Ahren guesses. "Like a ghost king or queen."

The other kids nod, seeing that as possible. As of right now, the oldest kid is Kile who's eleven-years-old. With those many young minds all huddled around this myth, the imagination surely does run wild, especially since they have no foundational premise to stand on when it comes to this urban legend.

They're still going to go through with their plan.

"Josie," Kaden starts, "if you don't care about the ghost, then get the supplies."

Josie nods excitedly, taking Osten with her. In all actuality, Josie doesn't care about the whole Newsome ghost since her mindset hovers around the concept that ghosts are not real. However, she is all for sleepovers, especially now since they're putting her in charge of getting all the supplies. She gets to pick all the snacks, sleeping bags, pajamas - it's a dream come true for her.

To their surprise, their parents were okay with them having a sleepover there. They just didn't mention the reason behind their sleepover.

Hours later, they all meet up in a dark Women's Room (or Newsome Library), wearing the pajamas. All the furniture is pushed to the side to make room for their sleeping bags which they formed as a circle. They all sit in the center, where all of their sleeping bags meet and hold their flashlights up to their faces.

"Now, the story of the Newsome Library," Kile starts in a creepy storytelling voice. "A long time ago, a woman was trapped here in this room as punishment and died."

"I heard she got murdered," Ahren says.

"By a rebel!" Kaden exclaims, immediately being shushed by the others.

There's a moment of stark silence as the rush of fear hits it climax before settling back down.

"I think she possessed this room," Kile states.

At the sound of that, Josie pulls out some sage scented oils and starts spraying them all over her sleeping bag. Typically, sage has to be burned in order to protect the area from demons or negative spirits but she isn't allowed to handle matches. Josie doesn't even believe in the Newsome ghost that may or may not be there, but she just doesn't want to take any chances. The smell of sage is problematic but nobody seems to really care since it will clear the room of demons.

"That's ridiculous," Eadlyn states.

"It used to be The Women's Room and now it's called The Newsome Library," Kile argues.

"They just renamed it. Things get renamed all the time, that doesn't mean this room is possessed."

"Then why is your mother the only one who truly calls it The Newsome Library?"

The same stark silence from a few moments ago fills the room again. The Schreave kids think about the possibility of their mom being possessed by the ghost of Celeste Newsome. It seems incredibly ridiculous but possible given the semi-credible evidence they have.

"Are you saying that this Celeste girl possessed our mom?" Osten asks, chewing nervously on his thumb.

Kile shrugs. Josie passes Osten one of her sage spray bottles just in case. The stories and rumors of the ghost of Celeste Newsome continue circuling just like the snacks. Josie, being bored of all this ghost-related stuff, lies in her sleeping bag and starts reading a magazine she brought with her to pass the time. Then she reads an interesting article that gets her to -

"Boo!" She exclaims, startling Kaden, who's sleeping bag is next to hers, by rapidly nudging him with her clawed-out hands.

Kaden screams a little as everyone's hearts peaked dramatically. Josie snickers as they all chuck their pillows at her.

"Don't do that!" Kaden yells at her.

Josie laugh a little despite the serious tension in the room. "Why not? Ghosts aren't real and I read a magazine that said shocking is good for the skin. See?"

Josie shows them the magazine she was just reading. It was an old issue that was still glossy with big and bold headlines, as though it was the latest in the series. The other kids all huddle to get a look at the article Josie was talking about. It was nothing credibly proven with science, but an article is an article and this was one they didn't bother to read.

What got their attention was the advertisement on the next page for a diet soft drink. Eadlyn shines her flashlight on it so they could get a better look at it. The model was holding a glass bottle of the drink with a straw in it. Her perfectly plump and red lips were on the straw as her bright eyes were looking up and away from the camera. Her dark hair was tousled lightly to compliment the striking white dress she was wearing.

They all recognized her.

The model in the advertisement was Celeste Newsome.

The fact that even a photo of her in a magazine from years ago was present _in_ the Newsome Library _while_ they were investigating the rumors about Celeste Newsome freaked them all so much that they all ran out screaming. That is, except for Josie who continued reading her magazine on her sage-scented sleeping bag.

* * *

 **Not gonna lie, I would be Josie in this situation. Anyways, here is the summary for my OS which is out now!**

 ** _Confess_ \- ** Celeste, well-aware that she's dead, wounds up in America's hospital room post-heart attack instead of the afterlife. What could this all mean? (OS)

 **As for the other one-shot that was in the poll, that will be up when I feel like putting it up. I have another story up first because I'm self-promotion trash.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "You're definitely bluffing."**


	72. Photo 72: Boys Playing Poker

**Okay, so this chapter idea came to me while I was writing Maxon drunk, chapter 48 to be exact, and just take note that I have never played poker in my life.**

* * *

Photo #72: Boys Playing Poker

If there was one (out of many) pieces of advice Eadlyn has heard multiple times from her mother, it would be, _'Never ever gamble.'_ Her mother would never have to worry about Eadlyn gambling since she never saw a point to doing so. You either win everything or you lose it all, mostly the latter if you make a mistake or get too cocky.

The next picture has Eadlyn grinning a little. Everything looked so casual: her father, Mr. Woodwork, and Mr. Ledger were all sitting around a table. All of them were smiling, dressed in their everyday clothes - they looked like those friends you'd find in the city and not in the castle. Their faces were not only filled with glee but with a pride towards the cards in their hands and the pile of poker chips in front of them.

If there was one person her mother really had to be cautious about gambling, it was her father - especially with what he gambled at the time...

-o-

The night just started. Maxon would host the occasional poker night in whatever library or conference room was available and not needed for the next day. Today's game is Aspen's turn to bring the snacks and Carter the cards.

"I brought all the reinforcements - sweet and salty snacks and drinks!" Aspen says, setting down all the items he listed. He turns around and sees America, Marlee, and Lucy standing behind him. "Oh, and our wives are here too."

The three women take their seats on a nearby couch. This is supposed to be a boys night but the boys don't really care much about them being there since they're so invested in their card game that they never really notice their wives being there, even when they're talking throughout the whole game.

"I don't get this game," America tells her girlfriends as Carter deals the cards for himself and the other boys.

"Sometimes the maids and guards would play this in-between shifts," Lucy says.

"Are you any good?"

"Not at all. This game is all bluffing and strategy."

The girls sit and watch the boys. One game consisted of multiple cards being flipped over, chips being tossed, glass bottles from beers tapping against the table, eyebrow raised, pending glares, cocky statements - and even though it's been only _one_ game, it's been a few hours.

"This is boring," Marlee comments, "even Monopoly or Scrabble end quicker than this."

Marlee looks over at America and Lucy. Both of them were asleep on each other's shoulders. Marlee smirks as she goes back to watching the poker game. Based on what she's already seen of the game, she could try to piece together what's going on and how to play, but she doesn't want to strain her brain over the extent of its ability.

"I think you're bluffing," Carter says as he examines Maxon's face.

"Carter, we've been playing cards long enough in this one game to know that everyone is bluffing," Aspen says. "I'd hate to say this but Maxon might win this hand overall."

"This is stressing me more that it should."

Maxon laughs a little to himself. "Don't stress, it's a waste of energy and remember that even if things don't go how you hope, nobody can take your worth from you."

"How considerate of you to boost my self-esteem." Carter quickly glances at his own cards. "I'll take your bluff and just tell you that my hand will be better."

"I'd say mine is superior to both of yours," Aspen counteracts.

Tensions builds with all these bluffs. Marlee, the only woman currently awake, still doesn't understand this game or why it suddenly feels so tense.

"I bet my kingdom," Maxon says firmly.

Perfect timing for America and Lucy to wake up. After rubbing their eyes, they see Marlee's jaw dropped with bulging eyes and Carter and Aspen choking on their drinks, all while Maxon has a dashingly over-confident smirk on his face as he mockingly fans himself with his oh-so-perfect hand of cards.

"You better be bluffing," America says, unsure if she's using that word correctly.

"I'm not," Maxon replies. "I'll even throw this in the pot."

Maxon slides his signet ring off and places it in the pile of poker chips. America jumps up from the couch and looks at Maxon's cards to make sure he's only doing this because he has the best possible hand of cards. Sadly, she isn't sure what the best cards are so she just slaps the back of Maxon's head.

"Are they good cards?" Aspen asks America.

"Dear, don't tell him!" Maxon exclaims at his wide.

America shrugs. "I don't know, they're all red."

"Aspen's got red and black," Lucy says, now standing over Aspen's shoulder.

"So does Carter," Marlee adds, doing the same for Carter.

The boys don't say anything since the girls really don't know how poker works. Then again, the girls also don't care how this game works.

"Full house," Carter says, showing his cards which consisted of three 5s and a pair of 7s. Marlee cheers since the term 'full house'.

America glares at Maxon because if he loses Illéa over a full house of cards, she will never forgive Maxon. However, her glare softens a little when she sees that Maxon's face hasn't shown the slightest bit of concern for his own cards. She puts her hands on his shiulder and Maxon turns back to smirk at her. His grimace is saying, _'I got this'_ while her sharp eyebrows reply with, _'you better.'_

"Four of a kind," Aspen says, showing all four 6s from the deck.

Carter grumbles in defeat as Aspen takes all his poker chips. Aspen eyes Maxon, ready to see what lies on the other side of those cards. In his dreams, Aspen sees himself winning Illéa even though he will never actually claim that prize because he wouldn't want to be the new king only because the old king got cocky when it came to playing poker. Although those thoughts will only be dreams as he sees Maxon's hand.

"Royal flush," Maxon says victoriously, showing off an ace, king, queen, jack, and a ten all of hearts.

America claps cheerfully as Maxon proudly puts his signet ring back on. Carter and Aspen both narrow their eyes at him. Of course Maxon would only bet his kingdom when he knew he would win due to the best hand one could ever have in poker.

"Better luck next time," Maxon tells them as he puts his signet ring back on.

"I want a rematch," Carter says.

"I'll cut the deck," Aspen says, gathering all the cards again. He starts to shuffle them.

The girls gather at their couch again with full glasses of wine. They clink their glasses at the sound of round two.

* * *

 **I would be the girls in this because I don't understand poker. I've read the instructions a few times for multiple stories and I just don't get it. I just realized that a good portion of the chapters I write are about things I don't even understand myself.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "I think we look best with this filter." (Self-Promo again)**


	73. Photo 73: Once Upon a Selfie (SP)

**I know that some of the reviews for this are going to be along the lines of this situation not being "realistic" or "appropriate" for royals but just to save you the time for typing that, I'll just give you my responses right here: 1) I honestly don't care for the accuracy. 2) This is literally a fanfic and a lot of people actually love reading my 'Maxmerica does modern stuff' chapters. 3) My blessed Prime Minister has every social media platform possible, has made a Spotify playlist, and has taken numerous selfies with anyone who asks him.**

 **This is all self-promotion for a new Lunar Chronicles story I have now published. All information about that will just be at the end.**

* * *

Photo #73: Once Upon a Selfie

Eadlyn addresses this next cluster of photos as either _'how my parents relate with every millennial in the world'_ or _'how my parents are the most embarrassing people in the world.'_ Both titles are very accurate and any kid her age who has been born with a phone in their hands in this heightened era of technology will understand the cringeworthy situation she has once been placed in.

Eadlyn's parents were already pretty relatable to the people and nothing really itched her except this. It wasn't only a way to get the civilians of Illéa to think that their queen and king were people like them, but it also served as more than one reason for Eadlyn to put a paper bag on her head.

And that one thing was a selfie.

-o-

Every person in marketing thinks the same thing: who is the best person to endorse our new product? There's the typical celebrity or model but consumers don't really grasp onto that concept anymore since all they will see is an advertisement. But if the people in said advertisement had a prestigious reputation that was so high and proper, then seeing them endorsing something so mundane will certainly get people talking. Suddenly, the word goes around that the royals are doing it so everyone else should as well.

Companies thrive out of capitalism and what screams egotistical more than taking a selfie - especially when the subjects of said selfie had Illéa's favorite royal couple and their cute children.

"I think we look best with this filter," Maxon says, selecting one.

"I think we look old with that one," America jokes, selecting another one.

As Maxon and America browse through all the selfie filter options. It was all promotion for a company's new product but the two of them were just having fun with it (which was the main goal of the commercial). Their kids, however, stood to the side with incredibly different opinions on the moment at hand. Eadlyn and Ahren were mortified by it all, Kaden was indifferent but would rather be anywhere else than here, and Osten was the only one who seemed to be getting as much joy out of the experience as his parents.

"If there weren't going to be multiple pictures of this moment, I would try my absolute best to forget it," Eadlyn whispers to Ahren.

She, Ahren and even Kaden stand to the side, hoping their parents were too involved with selfie filters to notice them purposely not participating.

"Hopefully, there are some technical difficulties with the phone they're using so this could all be over," Ahren adds.

"If Mom and Dad start speaking with hashtags then I am leaving," Kaden says.

Eadlyn and Ahren immediately agree to that. If either of their parents (or even Osten) start any sentence with the word ' _hashtag'_ then they're forever changing their entire identities and moving to the outskirts of Swedenway.

"Mommy, use this one!" Osten exclaims, picking a new filter to use.

America beams when she sees the new filter Osten chose. Maxon can't help but laugh at it. Osten is happy he got his parent happy. For once, they're not mad at him for messing something up on purpose. The other three were just dreading what would happen next.

"Maxon we look like dogs!" America exclaims giddily.

Eadlyn, Ahren, and Kaden simply pretend that they never heard that. There were just some phrases that adults should never say. In that case, unless their parents actually transformed into real dogs, they should not say those five words.

"I'll get our passports," Kaden says.

"I'll pack our bags," Ahren says.

"I'll book the first flight out of here," Eadlyn says.

"Sounds like a plan."

The three of them turn on their heels and are about to make a run to get their plan in action. This was going to be it. They were finally going to make their escape from all this cringe.

"Where do you three think you're going?" Maxon asks, stopping his three eldest children from running off.

Eadlyn, Ahren, and Kaden stop right at the doorway. They were so, _so_ close.

"Swedenway," Eadlyn responds honestly.

Maybe it was because of the euphoria that came with animated selfie filters or the surplus of flash photography distorting their perception, but Maxon and America didn't really care about their kids' last-minute trip to Swedenway. As of right now, they had their minds focused on something that they may currently see as more important than their kids running away.

"Come take a selfie with us," America says (or orders. Her chipper smile is deceiving).

Eadlyn, Ahren, and Kaden sluggishly drag themselves over to their parents. They stand there, faking smiles as fake flower crowns appear on their heads in the screens. The added pink filter somehow makes their smiles look more real. That's the magic that came with selfies.

"Are we still going to Swedenway?" Kaden whispers to his older twin siblings, keeping the forced grin on his face for the sake of his parents.

Their flower crowns change into a black and white background. For a moment, everyone thought that was all the filter had but no, there was more. It came with aviators that had color-changing lenses and accompanying dance music that belongs in a discount club. Maxon and America sure enjoyed it. Osten did too. The other kids, well, not so much.

"This is way worse than them saying _hashtag_ ," Ahren says.

"Don't forget to pack my jacket," Eadlyn replies.

* * *

 **Yes, this was a play on Snapchat and my personal favorite filters.**

 **Come on, we have all been down that scarring moment of old people taking selfies. Now, onto my new Lunar Chronicles story:**

 ** _Once Upon a Selfie_ ** \- Life is no fairytale once puberty hits, especially in this modern day when fairytales are only stories. Meet these eight teenagers as they write their own fairytale from the perspective of high schoolers, despite the many struggles, secrets, and selfies that will inevitably come. (Kai x Cinder, Scarlet x Wolf, Cress x Thorne, Winter x Jacin) (Modern AU / Origin Story)

 **Go check it out if you are complete trash for the series like me!**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- It's been one year...**


	74. Photo 74: One Year

**I'm not gonna lie, I think this is my favorite chapter to date.**

 **Happy fucking first birthday to the majestic story. It would've been nice if this was the hundredth chapter but oh well.**

* * *

Photo #74: One Year

Eadlyn knows nothing about marriage except that the royals have to do it at young age to a randomly selected stranger or some other royal whom you've only seen the face of at a few parties. They expect a _'love at first sight'_ type of romance to make it not seem as forced which never really happens. The only response that comes out of love at first sight is either _'you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen'_ or _'you're super ugly'_. Infatuation like that never has a middle ground.

Romance actually takes time to build. Love at first sight is completely fiction (and this isn't coming from Eadlyn's bitter attitude towards her own Selection). Even after the wedding, a married couple still manages to continue falling in love with each other. For instance, her father always has a new reason to love her mother, even if this picture of her mother covered in freezer frost seems as if it should have no reason for him to fall in love with her all over again, her father will still find a way.

If there's something Eadlyn knows about life, it's that the firsts of anything else are the ones that truly matter.

-o-

According to tradition, a married couple would save the top layer of their wedding cake to eat on their first anniversary. It's supposed to promote good luck and prosperity for a happy marriage. For Maxon and America, that was the only layer of their wedding cake that remained untouched and not smashed in each other's faces.

Today is their first wedding anniversary and that top layer was going to be eaten. The first problem was looking for said layer. It was kept in the kitchen's main freezer but since the chef knew it wasn't going to be touched for another year when he first put it in, it was kept in the back. It was too important to just be put in the walk-in freezer.

America stands on her tiptoes, craning her arms on the freezer just above the refrigerator. She takes out all the frozen items in the front and passes them to Maxon. He holds all of them in his arms, shivering because, well, he's holding frozen items so he's obiously freezing cold. America keeps pulling out items non-stop so Maxon puts the items that he's holding on the table that's covered in towels just to prevent the melted ice on the packages to spill all over the floor (which he probably should've done a while ago to avoid getting frostbite on his arms and chest).

"I think I see it!" America exclaims, grabbing a step-stool to help her reach the back of the freezer.

Now that there's enough room in the freezer for America to just move the remaining items in there, Maxon takes a seat on the table as he watches his wife search for the top layer of their wedding cake with such determination. She was so psyched when she woke up this morning because of that cake layer whereas Maxon forgot it was in there.

"You know, you could help," America suggests.

"No thanks," Maxon replies, "I'm enjoying the view."

America looks out from the freezer and sees that Maxon is sitting down behind her. They're in the kitchen so there isn't really anything to look at. Then she realizes that he's sitting behind her and she's standing on a step-stool, leaning forwards into a freezer. Maxon Schreave had a perfect view of her perfect butt.

"Creep," she jokes as she goes back to searching. She smirks at the sound of Maxon's laugh.

"Maybe it'd be better if you gave up on finding it?" Maxon suggests. "Who knows, maybe it disintegrated in there."

America huffs. "Maxon, sometimes, it doesn't matter what position you're in. Whether you're weak, hurting, or in the midst of being stopped by a giant frozen bluefin tuna in the freezer you're halfway in; when it comes to love, when it comes to someone you truly care about, nothing will stand in your way because love always wins."

Maxon would appreciate her words more if she wasn't talking about a layer of their wedding cake that's a year old.

America suddenly hits her head on the top of the freezer. Maxon jumps in his seat, acknowledging America's slight cursing. Well, on the bright side, she already has access to all the ice she needs for the growing bump on her head since she's basically inside the freezer.

"Happy Anniversary!" America exclaims as she puts the cake on the table. Maxon is glad he was able to capture that as a photo. Only America could make frost-tinted hair look fabulous.

It doesn't really ressemble the cake Maxon remembers seeing on his wedding day. To preserve it, the cake was wrapped in plastic and placed in a box which was just wrapped with more plastic. Then after all the time in the freezer, there was a lovely coat of frost on it.

"Wow," Maxon says with all his breath. "Just, wow."

America cheers as she leaps off the step-stool and pushes the frozen foods they took out earlier just to the side of the table, some might have fallen on the floor but America doesn't care about that right now. All that matters is that the cake layer is here. America brushes off the frost off the top so elegantly which contrasts to the way the rips through all the plastic. Maxon closes his eyes as the frost remains and plastic wrap get thrown on him. Once he hears that the rustling has stopped, Maxon brushes all the packaging that has now stained his clothes with wet patches.

"America, I think you found a glacier," Maxon says, touching the cake with one finger and it is as hard as a rock.

"It's fine," America says.

"Maybe we should let it defrost," he suggests even though he knows that she'll come up with a reason as to why they shouldn't wait that sounds absolutely wrong but sounds right.

"It's basically ice cream cake now." And there's the illogical reason he was waiting for. A year of marriage really teaches a man a few things about his wife.

"Dear, it doesn't work like that," he tries to correct. A year of marriage also taught him to never flat-out tell his wife that she's wrong. (But for some reason she could tell him that without sugar coating it. Marriage is weird that way).

America goes over to where the chefs store the knives. Since it's a cake, common sense says to get one of those delicate knives to make a nice clean cut. However, she's working with a wedding-layer-turned-ice-cream-glacier cake so she pulls out the giant butcher knife. In one fluent motion, Maxon uses his feet to scoot his chair a good distance away from his wife. It's not that he doesn't trust his wife with what she's going to do it's that they're surrounded by everything icy and slippery and if that gigantic knife were to go flying, he would be decapitated in seconds. Maxon could offer to cut the cake himself but America's determination outshines his strength any day.

"The cake isn't _that_ frozen," America tells him.

The moment she tries to slice through the frozen icing on the cake layer, the knife handle breaks right off. America is taken aback, looking at the blade that's wedged in the cake and the handle in her hands. Maxon can't help but laugh. The look of defeat on her face makes this whole scavenger hunt for the top layer of their wedding cake totally worth it.

"Should I get a chainsaw?" Maxon suggests as he stands up next to her.

"Not funny," America replies even though she secretly thinks that it is.

"This could be symbolic."

"How?"

"If this cake is the embodiment of our relationship, then this proves that nothing could cut through it."

America narrows her eyes. "That's lame."

"I love you too."

America grabs another big knife and starts hacking at it. "How is this frozen fossil still considered edible?"

"Maybe it'll be melted by our second anniversary."

It wasn't supposed to be a joke but Maxon laughs anyways and he's the only one who finds it funny. He laughs even louder when America's second knife ends up the same way the first one did. She groans as Maxon pulls her close and kisses the side of her head.

* * *

 **I googled it. This tradition is legit and totally something I would do if I don't eat all the cake the moment I get married.**

 **And for the story's second birthday, I will be writing them eating that cake. I'm kidding but if I make it to two years then we'll celebrate again.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- Is there such thing as too much chocolate? (Answer, no because chocolate is infinite).**


	75. Photo 75: Death by Chocolate

**S/O to that flavor of chocolate ice cream in that store that I've been dying (no pun intended) to try for being the chapter title.**

 **S/O to that chocolate cake I just baked for making my apartment smell amazing.**

 **S/O to Maxon Schreave because it's his birthday and this chapter is for him.**

* * *

Photo #75: Death by Chocolate

Eadlyn wishes she was in this next picture because it has one of her favorite things in the world in it - chocolate. The picture was making her mouth water so if she were actually in the picture herself, she would be drooling like a dog on a hot day. It was just so beautiful to look at all that chocolate. Her dad was in the picture too and he looked overjoyed to be in an environment with all that chocolate - which she couldn't blame him for - but she could only focus on the chocolate.

Surely, consuming all that chocolate in one sitting would be deadly but Eadlyn would do it in a heartbeat. Death by chocolate? Who wouldn't want that?

-o-

Still sleeping, Maxon wakes up and inhales a strong scent of chocolate. He thinks over how such a pleasant scent could be possible, not that he's complaining. He loves chocolate but it's not something he's ever waken up to and the kitchen is not only a few floors down but at the other end of the palace. Maxon opens his eyes and sees that America isn't in bed next to him.

Now, it's time to investigate.

The moment he notices America's gone, that's when he suspects that the two are connected.

He leaves his pajamas on but puts a robe on top. Maxon walks out and notices that the palace staff are much more giddy and cheerful as they bow and wish him a good morning. He doesn't question it since it may be the chocolate in the air that's causing this happy environment. Maybe this is a pleasant gas attack?

Maxon enters the kitchen where the chocolate scent hits him like a new awakening. He looks around and ignores the mess of chocolate and other baking ingredients and materials because of what he sees right in front of him: an array of various chocolate cakes that present themselves boldly on their crystal platters and behind it all is America wearing a basic tee and dated jeans with her hair swirled up in a bun that has some red strands sticking out. She's also decorated in cocoa powder, icing sugar, and frosting with a giant smile on her face.

All in all, it's a beautiful sight.

"Happy birthday!" America exclaims to him as she goes to hug him tightly. "I wanted to be the first to say that."

With all the royal duties that he's been extremely busy with recently, he completely forgot about his birthday let alone the fact that it was even coming close. All the work really makes the days just pass by. It didn't help that nobody reminded him (unless America ordered them not to, just like how she ordered everyone not to say happy birthday until she did).

"Did you do all this by yourself?" Maxon asks her, astounded by all the cakes he sees.

"I did," America replies, "and it was all worth it to see this happy face."

"Thank you so much."

"Anything for you."

America places her hands on his face and stretches his already-big smile with her thumbs. He holds the back of her head as he pulls her in to a kiss. He can definitely tell that she did all this baking since she tastes like sugar and cocoa. That definitely gets her more fluttering kisses that usual.

"Did you make a fruit cake?" Maxon asks only out of curiousity.

America scoffs a little, putting a hand on his chest. "Fruit was not invited unless it was the plus one of chocolate."

Maxon laughs. America takes his hand and sits him down in a chair that's in front of all that cakes. She stands at the other end of the small table and opens her arms to present all the cakes. Maxon's mouth waters the longer he looks at all of them. He just wants to eat them all this instance.

America points at the first cake which is a large rectangle. "This is a Black Forest Cake. It's layers of sponge cake being held together with whipped cream and cherries. On the outside, there's more whipped cream, sour cherries and chocolate shavings."

"Those words were beautiful," Maxon says.

"Were you even listening to my description?"

"Of course."

America smirks as she points to two smaller circular dishes. "This first one is a chocolate soufflé which you know since you've eaten thousands of those before and this second one is a molten lava chocolate cake which is really just my first attempt at a soufflé that sank in the oven."

"Great salvaging," Maxon comments.

"I call it multi-purpose."

"Of course, dear, continue."

America points at a round medium-sized chocolate. "Devil's food cake which just your basic chocolate cake with icing."

"Did you know that chocolate was a temptation of the devil?" Maxon asks her. America looks at him weirdly. "That's where the name comes from."

America cocks an eyebrow at him. "Are you implying that I'm the devil?"

Maxon straightens up before leaning on the table with a charming grin on his face. America as the devil? She has the red hair and the fiery personality so that theory makes sense.

"You don't need chocolate to tempt me," Maxon whispers to her.

America's eyes pop and she grins as she looks away from him. The next cakes are closer to Maxon so she steps next to him and hugs his head so it's against her torso.

"This fudge cake is the definition of chocolate," America says, pointing at a cake on a glass display plate. "Chocolate cake mix, chocolate pudding, and chocolate chips."

America kisses her fingertips and opens them upwards to emphasize the deliciousness of her cake based on only it's appearance and description. Maxon seems to already be on board with eating it just by looking at it.

"This German chocolate cake is my favorite," America tells Maxon about the next cake. "A layered chocolate cake filled and topped with a coconut-pecan frosting."

"I didn't know coconut was German," Maxon comments.

America shrugs. "And this is our last cake." She brings her hands together. "A chocolate cheesecake with a chocolate and graham cracker crust and a filling of fluffy cream cheese and chocolate sauce."

America beams at Maxon's complete loss for words. She is only getting more excited now that the cake walk is done because the best part is still yet to come: eating them.

"I could listen to you talk about chocolate for the rest of my life but I'm starving and these cakes are speaking to me," Maxon tells her.

America sits Maxon down in a chair that has all the cakes surrounding him. She hands him one of those giant forks used to serve the food and takes one for herself as she sits in a chair next to him. The bigger the fork, the bigger the mouthful. The two of them each pick a cake to start from (he went for the cheesecake and she chose the German chocolate one) and just dug their forks right into it because this moment was too extraordinary for a plate to participate in.

Maxon almost cries at his first bite. "This made my day."

"Well, you make my life," America replies.

"I seriously love you."

America smiles back, unsure whether or not he was saying that phrase of endearment to her or the cakes. Maxon looks up at her with a cocked eyebrow and then she realizes that he's waiting for a response. She smirks, happy that he was talking to her.

"I seriously love you too," she responds.

* * *

 **Maxon with cake is me. Find yourself an America Schreave who would do this for you. Points for me for writing two cake chapters in a row.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- One life-changing moment tears at America's heart... (Self-Promo - last one of the year I swear and there was a sadistic pun up there, I'm sorry-not-sorry).**


	76. Photo 76: When It Happened (SP)

**Remember that other one-shot that was in a poll I had a long time ago? If you forgot then that's okay because so did I.**

 **You all know the drill for self-promo. All the information is at the end.**

 **Never in my life did I think I would be thanking Buzzfeed for an idea but thank you Buzzfeed. I literally couldn't think of an idea for this sneak peek but Buzzfeed provided.**

* * *

Photo #76: When It Happened

Eadlyn smiles bittersweetly as she looks at the next photo. Her mother is young, she and her father were probably engaged when this happened. She thinks that this photo is in her mother's old home in Carolina based on the stories she has heard.

The house in the photo is empty. It's the day they all moved out and left that home behind. It sounds like nothing but the extraordinary, powerful, life-altering moments get all the attention. That's because they're memorable. They're exhilarating. Still, the little moments deserve some sunlight, especially because they still bring joy when remembered.

It's the people in life that matter, not the places you occupy. But a family home is a family home nevertheless.

It's a place you can never fully leave.

-o-

Today was moving day for the Singer family! After the announcement of the engagement of Maxon and America along with the death of Maxon's parents due to the rebel attack, they waited for the hype mixed with grief to settle down before this came into action. America was finally going to move the rest of her stuff into the palace just as her mother, May, and Gerad were going be moving into the house near the palace which Maxon bought for them.

Maxon huffs, exhausted. He sits on one of the closed boxes containing linens. May hands him a glass filled with room-temperature water as Magda leans against the wall behind him and pats his back. Magda smirks at him as May goes to check up on Gerad.

"You have a lot of stuff," Maxon tells her. He's been helping out in moving the boxes from in the house to the moving truck. Then, when they arrive at their new place, it will be the opposite.

"You offered," Magda argues. It was an offer she immediately said yes to. "You could've gotten some of your guards to help instead of just having them make a perimeter to the nom-existent threats. If you don't want to do any heavy lifting, then stop having such impressive muscles."

Magda jokingly winks at him. Maxon smirks at her as she goes out to the moving truck.

He gets up and walks around the house. Movers continue emptying the house and Maxon stops at the entryway of a bedroom. He leans against the doorframe and sees America with her back to him. She has her elbows on the windowsill and has her head tilted against her intertwined hands as she looks out the window.

"This was my childhood home," America says to him. "I was born here and I grew up here. It's weird to think that just a year ago I was a Five in this small house with thin walls, hearing every note being sung and harmonizing whenever an opportunity arose. I remember watching May and Gerad being born and growing up - despite Gerad still being an infant. Now, I'm going to be a One in the biggest palace ever. I was a musician at parties and now I'm going to be the Queen of Illéa. Nobody else but me could say that. It's not easy to pack memories and emotions into boxes and store them away because those just stay with you and make your heart heavy."

"Sadly - or happily - life doesn't always go according to plan," Maxon responds. "Life moves on and we just have to keep up with it."

Maxon couldn't be more right. America never thought her life would be the way it is now. Everything could change so quickly and Maxon is right on just needing to keep at pace with it.

"How do you always know what to say?" America asks him.

Maxon shrugs. "Oh, America dear, that was a Hallmark quote you could use for any situation. I'm pretty sure I read it off a card someone gave me. I have lived in the same place my whole life so I actually have no idea what to say when it comes to just leaving."

America wipes her tears with her thumb. "That's okay. You don't have to say anything since you'd actually be surprised at how much someone could say without talking. It's nice to get all of this off my chest. Someone should send me that card but make sure to address it to the palace and not here."

Maxon hugs her from behind. His hands wrap around her waist as he kisses the back of her head.

"If you got a chance to say something to your younger self to warn her about leaving this house, what would you say to her?" Maxon asks her just to lighten the mood.

"I could say anything to young America?" America questions, excited to play along with this game.

"Anything you want."

"I wouldn't say I'd be _warning_ her."

"Bad choice of words on my part. Just say that you're telling her in advance, giving her a glimpse into her future. I mean, young America would've had to have moved out of the house eventually, wouldn't she?"

"Hey!" America exclaims. "Nobody knows what goes on in young America's mind. Sometimes present me is even confused."

They both laugh a little. America looks up as she thinks about that question for a bit. Maxon rests his chin on her shoulder and she leans her head against his. He can feel her smiling a little as they both look out her window.

"Younger America," America starts, "tune that violin of yours and practice your scales because you will never see this day coming. This is the day when it all happens. It's when you realize that you are growing up into an exceptional woman."

* * *

 **If you've ever moved from your childhood home like I have, you know it's hard. I know that even when I would go back to my childhood home, I would always feel like crying.**

 **I tried so hard not to make any puns in relation to the story it's advertising but here it is:**

 ** _When It Happened_ ** \- (spoilers for The Heir) Everything was completely fine for her until her heart stopped and the world around her completely shut down. See the story of America before, during, and after her heart attack. (Maxon x America OS)

 _ **Stay Tuned** **-**_ **"How do you take your popcorn?"**


	77. Photo 77: Pop!

**I changed the cover of this story and I'm in love with it.**

 **A while ago, I looked at a picture of one of my celebrity wives, Hayley Atwell, and she was throwing popcorn in the air in such a glamorous manner that this chapter was inspired by that.**

* * *

Photo #77: Pop!

The thing about wedding gifts is that you're either going to get an endless supply of something that will never be of use (which will definitely be gifted to someone else in the future) or something that you never thought you'd use but ended up using frequently. That's exactly what happened to Eadlyn's parents. They had a lifetime supply of notebooks which Eadlyn took to sketch in, pens for Ahren to write with, and odd-looking paper weights for Kaden and Osten to play with.

Possibly the best wedding gift they ever received and is still used till this day is a popcorn machine. The only regret is that her parents forgot who gifted it to them.

It was an amazing popcorn machine that the Schreave family would use whenever they wanted to sit in the theater and watch a movie or if they just wanted popcorn to snack on. Maybe if Eadlyn had better recent memory in the theater other than that wreck of a date, she would be smiling more at the sight of her mother flicking popcorn into the air.

-o-

Standing to the side of the palace's theater are Maxon and America, both of them looking down at their popcorn machine which was the highlight of this entire room. The room itself had a modern layout with the best cinematic technology to date and yet the popcorn machine was vintage. It was on a bright red carnival-style cart with swirling railings on both sides and old-fashioned bicycle-style wheels that even comes with a leather bicycle seat.

Tonight, Maxon and America decided to watch a movie as a way to relax and have a small date. It was great to have a moment for themselves since ruling the kingdom has become one of the most important things in their lives.

"What movie should we watch?" Maxon asks her as he puts the popcorn kernels in the maker and starts the process. "I could go for a romance."

"Seriously?" America replies, partially bug-eyed from that shocking response. "You _want_ to watch a romance movie?"

Maxon nods. "I could use my daily dose of over-dramatic fictional fluff."

"I'm impressed." America nods her head. "A man who would watch a marathon of romance movies, what girl _wouldn't_ want that?"

Maxon grins. "We could actually watch whatever genre there is, except horror movies."

America raises her eyebrows. "Can't handle the jump scares?"

"No..." Maxon mutters suspiciously, his eyes looking up to the ceiling. "I just don't like them."

A popping noise explodes in the room which was the popcorn kernels being cooked. Maxon jumps in the air with a little scream due to the sudden noise. America bends over, roaring in laughter. She holds onto the wheel of the popcorn machine to keep herself from falling as her free arm wraps around her suddenly-cramping sides. Maxon brushes himself off, acting as if that never happened. He hopes that America will do the same but based on her reaction alone, he will never hear the end of this.

"Oh my god!" America exclaims. "I can't breathe!"

She slaps a hand against her leg as she continues to laugh. Maxon crosses his arms and glares at her. America looks up at him with joyful tears in the corner of her eyes. Once she's simmered down, she stands up and squares he arms on her hips as she faces Maxon.

"Are you done?" He asks her.

"Yes," America replies with a growing grin on the corner of her mouth.

Maxon eyes narrow as he studies her. America leans in closer, narrowing her eyes as well. All is silent with the exception of the popcorn machine popping kernels, that is until -

"Pop!" America exclaims in his face, making explosions with her hands.

Maxon jumps back, holding his chest and feels his racing heart. America goes through another round of laughing. Maxon sighs, rolling his eyes. There's another embarrassing moment for him that she will be constantly egging him for.

As America continues her laughing, Maxon deals with the popcorn. He opens a little door in the machine and waves off the steam. Maxon grabs the large paper bags that came with the machine and fills one for America and another for him.

The bags themselves match the cart's vintage appearance with red and white vertical stripes. The top opening was cut with a mountain-esque design. On one side of the bag, the word 'Pop!' is written in all capital, bright, and animated letters. Maxon scowls at that since America used that word against him.

America notices his distaste towards that words and giggles as she takes her warm bag in her hands. She pops a few pieces in her mouth and then her eyes pop open. She immediately begins fanning her open mouth with her hand that isn't hugging her popcorn bag.

"Hot! Hot!" America exclaims about the popcorn she just ate. "Hot!"

Now, it's Maxon's turn to laugh maniacally. America glares at him once her mouth has cooled down. Now, he has something to respond with when she brings up his not-so-great moments.

"Fair game," America says. "Now, King Maxon, how do you take your popcorn?"

"What?" Maxon questions.

"How do you take your popcorn?" America repeats.

"I heard you the first time but what?"

"Buttery? Caramel? Salted? Lightly salted? Kettle corn?"

Maxon hesitates. "...it's popcorn"

America shrugs. "I can do whatever I want with popcorn. It's a blank canvas. Here, allow me to show you."

America takes a few pieces of popcorn in her hand. She flicks them all up and looks in amusement at her little rainfall of popcorn. Besides, if America said she could do anything with popcorn, why not have it fall from the sky? What could be more delightful than that?

* * *

 **That is right everyone, I wrote a chapter dedicated to a freaking popcorn machine. That is my life now.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "We definitely should've stopped at three..."**


	78. Photo 78: Pale Pinks and Pale Blues

**When I wrote that last teaser, I was thinking of how much that could go for an Osten-was-an-unexpected-pregnancy chapter. Pshh, that's another chapter that I have planned.**

 **78 chapters in and I'm surprised on how have I not written one of these yet.**

* * *

Photo #78: Pale Pinks and Pale Blues

Eadlyn has been to her share of baby showers. All the frills, tiny baby-sized objects, color schemes either being pale pink or pale blue, food, and never-ending giggles about a baby who has yet to be born. Don't get her wrong, Eadlyn is all for bringing life into the world and celebrating it but she just isn't up for all that giddiness.

However, her mother and Ms. Marlee were stoked when they got to have them, especially when they got pregnant at around the same time. Their baby shower was just a beautiful mess of pale pinks and pale blues. Eadlyn was young at the time so she doesn't really remember much of it except for the pale pinks and pale blues.

-o-

America and Marlee stand for what seems to be their hundredth photo. That's what they expected since this was their joint baby shower but even with their baby bumps at their different sizes, they weren't complaining at all. This is the primary reason they wanted to get pregnant at the same time. Sure, having their newborns growing up relatively close in age was cute but a joint baby shower was everything they ever asked for.

America was just starting to show whereas Marlee was further along in her pregnancy up to the point where she looked like she would pop at any second. Both of them were wearing dresses corresponding to their future babies - Marlee a pale pink and America a pale blue.

"I love these," Marlee says, popping another small cupcake in her mouth.

"I know!" America exclaims, nibbling on one of her own. "Not only are they delicious but they're decorated with little pacifiers."

"And they're serving wrapped candies in a stroller!"

"And the goodie bags are in little baby booties!"

America and Marlee coo in amazement as they continue to admire the beautiful baby themed room that was put together by everyone else while the guests congratulate them or the thousandth time. If there was something that was either a pale pink or a pale blue, it was most likely in here. Even Maxon and Carter had to dress for the event as well, wearing the colors of their unborn children in their shirts. The same goes for their current children which they have to watch as their wives do whatever it is expectant mother do at these type of parties.

Lucky for Maxon and Carter, their wives were busy being excited by everything made for babies so they wouldn't notice that they couldn't control their young children. Eadlyn was easy to handle since she was just teetering over the chocolates and eating them. Ahren and Kile were running around the entire venue.

"Stop running," Carter says, stopping Kile on the spot. That works until Carter lets go of Kile and he runs off again.

"Ahren!" Maxon exclaims.

At the sound of his name being called, Ahren turns around. His shoulder hits one of the columns that holds a tray of snacks. Maxon immediately leaps forwards to catch it before it hits the ground and spills everything and breaks. As Maxon straightens that up, Ahren backs away and heads somewhere else.

"Oh god..." Maxon mutters, popping an appetizer in his mouth. He watches Ahren continue making a beeline.

"I got Kile distracted," Carter says.

Carter points over to a couch were Kile sits in the middle of older ladies. He sits with his legs crossed as he draws on some of the fancy napkins with complimentary crayons. Carter beams in his awesome parenting when it comes to child control and Maxon glares at him.

"Hey," Maxon says in his defense, "I have Eadlyn under control."

"Are you sure?" Carter questions.

Maxon looks over at the bowl of candies Eadlyn was standing on her tip-toes to get a taste of and there's no one there. He sighs and groans as he puts a tired hand to his forehead. Carter plays lookout to find her but she's nowhere to be found.

"You distract our wives and I'll find our kids," Carter says.

"Why do I have the hard task?" Maxon asks.

"I'd say they're both on the same level of difficulty."

"But it's _my_ daughter."

"Which is why _you_ have to distract _your_ wife."

Maxon glares at Carter for being right who responds with his signature crooked smile and goes searching. He goes over to America and kisses the side of her head when he arrives.

"Maxon!" America exclaims. "Look at this jumper we got!"

America shows him the cute jumper which has a small cartoon cheetah on it. Marlee gives Maxon one of the jumper's legs so he could feel how soft the material is. The ladies talk endlessly about how soft it is and how soft a newborn is. Maxon is half-listening and half-keeping his eye on Carter to make sure that he finds his kids.

"Can't you picture our baby running around in it?" America asks him.

Maxon doesn't answer for a second. He isn't sure if America is onto him for losing their twins or if she's asking that hypothetically. She waits for an answer and Maxon gives her a wide smile, hoping she doesn't sense anything wrong.

"I sure can," Maxon says.

His voice cracked but nobody noticed except him. Hopefully, when he cleared his throat it covered everything up. He's in the clear. Maxon looks over and dismisses himself when he sees Carter waving him over. He gives America one more kiss before running off.

Maxon approaches Carter who lifts the tablecloth to reveal Eadlyn sitting under there with a bowl of chocolate truffles in her crossed legs. His first reaction would be to laugh at this because it's adorable (probably how Carter reacted when he found her) but he ends up just staring indifferently.

"Eady, come out of there," Maxon orders.

"No," Eadlyn responds, crossing her arms and turning her head.

"Well, we tried," Carter says.

He drops the tablecloth back down and just leaves her under the table. Carter thinks that if Eadlyn is down there munching on truffles then she wouldn't move so they'll know where she is at all times. He thinks it's a genius plan but Maxon gives Carter a look before crouching down and getting under the table himself to scold Eadlyn. He hopes that not only will Eadlyn come out, but that nobody asks where he is or that his back doesn't give out while in the hunched position.

"Eadlyn, come out," Maxon orders again.

"No," Eadlyn declines again.

Before Maxon could order it a third time, Eadlyn takes her bowl of truffles and starts crawling into the abyss of tables. Maxon groans in frustration as he crawls after her, calling her name just loud enough for Eadlyn to hear and none of the partygoers. He gives Eadlyn credit for crawling at a baby shower - sticking true to the theme of the day.

Maxon finally crawls out from under the table where he sees Eadlyn sitting on an ottoman with her bowl of truffles in her lap as if nothing happened and Carter off to the side tied up in pale pink and pale blue streamers.

"I left you alone for barely two minutes," Maxon states to him. "How did that happen?"

"I found the boys playing cops and robbers," Carter responds about his new accessory.

"Were you the robber?"

"No, I was the cop."

They both sigh. If combined total of three kids for the both of them is too much to handle, how will their lives be when two more are added to the bunch?

"Why did we agree to more kids?" Maxon questions as he stands up and starts unraveling Carter from the streamers.

They both look over and see their happy wives. This is the happiest they could possibly ever see them and then there's the old saying, _'happy wife, happy life.'_

"That's why," Carter responds.

Then, they see the boys chasing Eadlyn and her bowl of truffles with streamers in their hands. Eadlyn ten ducks under the table again and Kile and Ahren follow.

"That's not why," Maxon says as he and Carter go over to help her.

* * *

 ** _'Kim, why did you write this instead of an actual baby shower?'_ Well, I don't know anything about babies or their celebratory showers since I have never been to one. Also, I don't really like writing parties in general. And, I'm 100% for a Maxon and Carter friendship because I have another chapter planned along those lines.**

 **Other than that, Eadlyn is me at parties.**

 **Oh! I'm on wattpad again thanks to my queen, Anj0921! Follow me at garfieldofdreams !**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "Ew, no don't kiss me right now."**


	79. Photo 79: Sharp Yet Soft and Foamy

**This is an example of a chapter that I want to happen to me in my married life.**

* * *

Photo #79: Sharp Yet Soft and Foamy

Eadlyn remembers that as a child, she would always start her mornings by running into her parent's bedroom. Her mother would be singing and styling her hair as her father would be standing in the ensuite, swaying to her mother's melodies as he shaved his face. She would always run into the bathroom and hug her father around his legs. Then, he would bend over and kiss her forehead, stamping bits of shaving cream onto her face which she would then rub on his pants only to receive more.

Then, Eadlyn got older and that meant going to sleep later which meant waking up later and not getting those kind of kisses anymore. Not to mention that she got taller as well which made it not that cute anymore.

Still, the memories were precious.

And as Eadlyn looks at the picture of her father shaving, she deduces that the sharp yet soft and foamy kisses had to start from somewhere...

-o-

America wakes up one morning to the light sound of a faucet coming from their bedroom's ensuite. She looks over and sees an empty space next to her, making her realize that Maxon must be the one in the bathroom. Grinning, America gets out of bed, making as little noise as she possibly could so he won't notice that she woke up. She reaches forwards onto Maxon's dresser and takes his camera. Then, America tiptoes over to the ensuite's door, holding her breath as she makes her way. She slightly pushes the door open a crack and opens her mouth in excitement at the sight of Maxon being so focused and concentrated on shaving. She mentally counts to three before bursting in, taking a picture.

Maxon screams. "I could have cut myself!l

America laughs, putting the camera on the bathroom counter as she proceeds to die of pure laughter. This encounter made her morning and now she'll have a picture to remember it forever. Maxon puts down his razor and picks America up just to kiss her with his foamy face.

He passionately grabs America's face and invaded her lips with her. It takes her a few seconds to realize that this is happening but as soon as she does, she winces at the shaving cream on her face which only motivates him to wrap his arms around her tightly just to close the gap between their bodies. It almost feels as if they have been yearning for this to happen for a long time even though they kiss very often. Maxon's touch sets her on fire and despite having cold shaving cream on his face, America feels herself burning up with a passion for this man. On another day if this were happening, she would be savoring his taste but not today when his taste is shaving cream.

They part and America does notice that Maxon nicked himself a little. She wipes it away with a face towel and Maxon looks at himself closer in the mirror to make sure it's all good.

"Please tell me it doesn't look that bad," Maxon begs about the barely-noticeable cut.

"So you want me to lie?" America questions.

Maxon narrows eyes and she snickers, only kidding about her question.

"Quit pestering me while I'm trying to shave," Maxon says to her.

"Pester, more like charm," America corrects sassily with a small wink.

Maxon rolls his eyes as he continues shaving. America hops onto the bathroom counter just to watch him shave. As she finally wipes the shaving cream that came on her face from the kiss, she watches Maxon shave. Something about this was so satisfying and relaxing.

"I didn't think you were capable of growing a full beard," America says.

"That is really rude," Maxon says, obviously offended.

America shrugs nonchalantly. "The truth hurts, dear."

"You know, I had stubble when I was a pirate for that Halloween party."

"Stubble, not a beard. There's a big difference."

"You still nicked me."

"Quit whining, you big baby."

"I shave, therefore I am a man."

"You cry about little boo-boos, therefore you are a baby."

He goes to rinse the remaining shaving cream from his face and pats it dry with a fresh face towel. Maxon doesn't argue anymore since America kisses his cheek where the cut happened. She had to kiss a few times since the cut was so minuscule that they couldn't exactly pinpoint where it was. Then again, neither of them were complaining.

Maxon pulls out a bottle of aftershave from the cupboard. He has many to choose from but he just decided to pick the bottle that looks like a green Christmas ornament you'd hang on a tree.

"I like the smell of your shaving cream," America states. "You smell like a man which makes up for your crying over a little cut."

"Haha," Maxon says flatly, opening the bottle of aftershave. "Sniff this."

She smells the aftershave and is taken to a different dimension by the scent. It was clean with an aromatic nature scent with hints of lavender and peppermint. America almost wants to dump the bottle on herself since it just smells that good.

"Oh wow, that's super manly!" America exclaims gleefully.

America puts some in her hands and rubs her palms together to spread the aftershave around. Then, she claps her hands on Maxon's face, giving him another quick kiss in the process. There was something nicer about kissing a clean-shaven husband and when America's done kissing Maxon, she'll know what that is.

* * *

 **I typed that beginning author's note a really long time ago and I know that I called this idea a marriage goal (don't get me wrong, it still is) but I really like beards. Like those Chris Evans type of beards.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- It's that time of year to dress up (or dress up in whatever your parents make you wear)!**

 **Come to think of it, I actually maybe kinda foreshadowed the next chapter up there.**


	80. Photo 80: America's Seven Dwarves

**Guys! 300 reviews! Thank you all so much!**

 **Happy Halloween, my lovelies!**

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Photo #80: America's Seven Dwarves

If there was one Halloween Eadlyn wishes she could forget, it would be this one. Every other Halloween was full of cute, colorful, and creative costumes. Don't get her wrong, this Halloween had those factors as well. It just wasn't up to par with Eadlyn's factors.

Beneficial to her at the time, she ate a lot of candy to sugarcoat that memory into the far corners of her mind and make it seem kind of pleasant. Looking at this photo just brought back the absolute bitter truth of it. But the longer Eadlyn looks at the picture, the more she realizes that she wasn't the only miserable one.

The only happy ones in this photo were her parents.

-o-

America looks at her reflection in the mirror. Her look for the night is almost complete. All she needs is another toss of her curls and another coat of lip gloss. Once that's completed, she sees herself with shining lips that match her curls. From the corner of the mirror, she sees Maxon walking in from the ensuite as she starts humming a tune to match her costume (and even his for that matter).

"I know that song," Maxon says.

"You do?" America questions, looking at Maxon through his reflection in the mirror.

"Snow White sings that tune when she's telling the dwarves about her prince who will soon come for her."

America nods, appreciating her husband's knowledge for fairytales and their cinematic counterparts. She starts humming the tune louder as she turns around to get a good look of her handsome husband walking in and wearing the prince costume that compliments her Snow White costume.

"That looks better on you than it did on the display," America says, lightly tugging on the collar.

Maxon smirks proudly. "What kind of husband would I be if I didn't dress to impress?"

"A terrible one, but thankfully you make a really handsome prince - fairytale or not."

"I'd tell you to quit humming that song because your prince is here, but I always want to hear your voice even if it's just humming."

America smiles. Maxon puts his hands on her hips and steals a quick kiss from her. Their kiss would've gone for longer if they didn't hear their kids complaining in the hallway. To think that kids would be rejoicing on Halloween but not the Schreave kids this year. The kids know why they're complaining but Maxon and America don't (they might but either don't care or see their problems as petty).

The two of them step outside their bedroom, into the hallway and see their children all standing there. All of their costumes are the same - purposely-looking oversized and tattered rags, tight black pants, chunky belts around their waists with oversized buckles, and khaki-colored beanies sitting on their heads. Considering that America is dressed up as Snow White and Maxon is her Prince, their kids are dressed as the dwarves (four of the seven).

"Why do we have to be dwarves?" Eadlyn complains.

"My costume is itchy," Ahren adds.

"Mine is hot," Kaden follows.

Maxon and America look at Osten, expecting him to say something about how much he hates his costume but since Osten is a little baby who's just learning to crawl and talk, he's just looking up at his parents with a smile and chewing on the end of the beanie. America and Maxon look at one another, unsure of how to respond because they did the matching costumes for their own benefit but they thought that their kids would like it as well.

"Just eat some candy at the party," Maxon says, ruffling the head of his boys.

He picks up Osten and puts the beanie on properly. Osten doesn't react much until he starts to gnaw on Maxon's prince costume's collar.

Maxon sighs. "I'm going to find something more fitting for Osten to chew on."

As he excuses himself, America squares her hands on her hips and looks down at her three remaining children. She loves her costume and theirs as well, they disagree.

"Miss. Marlee's family got to dress up as Alice in Wonderland," Eadlyn says to her mom with a hint of resentment and envy in her voice. "She's Alice, Mr. Woodwork is The Mad Hatter, Kile's the White Rabbit, and Josie is the Cheshire Cat."

"Mhmm," America says, nodding her head with crossed arms as she taps her heel. "And if you were a Woodwork, you could be the Red Queen."

Eadlyn narrows her eyes at her mother as America kisses her daughter's cheek. America knows that her daughter is probably yelling _'off with her head!'_ at her in her head.

"I thought that you were gonna make us sing the working song," Kaden says.

Eadlyn and Ahren groan at Kaden's mention of that. If there was anything worse than the costumes, it was the song that came with it. And for a moment, they thought that their mother forgot about it.

"Sing the working song!" America exclaims.

The three kids sing nothing. America encourages them, starting the song for them through a hum.

"Heigh-ho..." The kids sing lethargically. "Heigh-ho..."

America crosses her arms, disappointed in her children. A part of her was sad that her children weren't musical like she is. Maxon comes walking back with Osten in his arms who has returned to chewing on his beanie.

"It's all he likes," Maxon says, passing Osten to America.

As America coddles her baby, the three kids think their off the hook from singing that song since their mother is currently distracted by the only Schreave kid who didn't have to sing since he couldn't even talk yet.

"Weren't you three singing?" Maxon asks his three kids.

They spoke too soon. The three of them just look up at their father with pleading eyes that beg him not to make them sing this song (because they didn't want their mother to hear any verbal pleads), but Maxon just encourages them to sing. As the kids continue to sing with the fakest sounding enthusiasm. America hums along, bouncing baby Osten along to the beat until she stops because she realizes something is missing.

"I had two more dwarves," America says.

And her two dwarves are approaching. To the kids' surprise and America's delight, Lucy and Aspen were two more of the seven dwarves. They don't look as miserable as the kids do, mostly because they probably got something really, _really_ good out of it in terms of favors since Aspen is slightly taller than all of them and he's supposed to be a dwarf.

"More like Heigh no!" Aspen jokes, putting his hands on Ahren and Kaden's shoulders.

"I kinda like this costume," Lucy says, standing behind Eadlyn. She puts her hands on Eadlyn's shoulders and starts rocking her back and forth. "The dwarves lived such a cute little life - literally - and they mined for diamonds. That in itself is rewarding."

The adults laugh even though the kids didn't really get it. They thought that the adults would be the ones more miserable but apparently not.

America does a headcount to make sure everyone a part of this costume recreation. As the numbers get higher, she becomes more thrilled. That is until she stops at six dwarves and not seven.

"I had one more dwarf," America says.

As they all wait, they hear footsteps coming up the stairs. They all look over, they see the final dwarf who turns out to be Lady Brice. This is the only one the kids laugh at since Lady Brice was the last person they would think it to be. Then again, only Lady Brice could make nice-looking rags seem regal and presentable.

"I'm only here for an extended vacation," Brice tells Maxon.

"I know," Maxon replies. He looks at Brice for a bit longer before grinning. "Maybe I'll make this a part of the dress code."

Brice smirks. "Do that and I'm resigning."

Maxon laughs as Ahren runs up to him.

"Why can't we get a vacation for doing this?" Ahren asks.

Maxon sighs. "You and your siblings get candy."

That thought stays in the Schreave kids' minds for a bit. What's a better reward out of being dressed as a dwarf just to please their parents - candy or a vacation?

* * *

 **Not gonna lie, if I had kids and a great husband then I would so do this type of thing on Halloween.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- Nine different photos with the same pose that just have one little big difference...**


	81. Photo 81: Nine Photos in Nine Months

**If you're here from tumblr then hello. For those of you wondering, I wrote a text post a while back with this headcanon and now it's here.**

* * *

Photo #81: Nine Photos in Nine Months

Right before her eyes, Eadlyn sees a collage of her mother consisting of nine pics. Each photo has a side profile of her mother standing at the same window at what seems to be the same time of day, early in the morning. Even her mother's poses in the pictures are the same. All of them have her mother standing sideways, looking down at her stomach with a smile on her face and her red curls looming over it like the branches of a willow tree.

At first glance at the first photo, Eadlyn is confused. She wonders why this photo even ceases to exist. What's the point in it? Then, as she looks along at the next eight photos, she notices that her mother's stomach is growing because of a baby bump. Eadlyn gasps a little in adoration since she now understands the sequence of the photos. Pregnancy always amazes her only for the fact that it's a little human baby growing inside of its human mother. How could that possibly _not_ be fascinating?

And not only is her mother's baby bump growing along the course of the photos but so is her smile.

-o-

 _Month One_

"I know what we should do!" Maxon exclaims.

"What?" America questions, crossing her legs as she sits on her bed.

America recently found out that she was pregnant with her and Maxon's third child very early on in the pregnancy. A sudden doctor's appointment revealed that she was just about a month into her pregnancy.

"We should watch our baby grow," Maxon proposes.

"You mean by an ultrasound?"

"No, no, with this." Maxon picks up his camera.

"How is that going to help?"

"Stand by the window."

America stands up and stands in front of the windows that currently has its drapes closed but with minimal sunlight peeking through, creating an almost shadow-like effect. Maxon holds up the camera and uses a free hand to gesture to America how she should pose. Once she's showing a side profile and has her hands on her flat stomach with her head looking down at it, smiling. That's when Maxon takes the picture and America understands why they're taking these pictures.

 _Month Two_

America stands in the same stance as the month before, already looking down at her still-flat stomach. Maxon lowers the camera from his eye, already capturing the picture.

"Isn't this technically pointless since the baby isn't even showing?" America questions.

"The baby is technically in there," Maxon cleverly responds. "Thus, we must document. Also, this is for the fact that you will be complaining about being huge when you get stretch marks."

"I hate you."

"I know."

Both of them obviously kidding with one another.

 _Month Three_

"There's a baby in there?!" Ahren exclaims.

"Yes, there is!" America replies happily.

"I don't see it," Eadlyn says.

"Me neither," Ahren adds.

Maxon laughs to himself from behind the camera. America rests her hands on her still-flat stomach as she looks down at her twins who place their hands on top of hers. The explanation for how a baby is in there can be for another day.

 _Month Four_

"See, kids," America says to her twins softly, putting one of their own hands on her baby bump that's just starting to peek out. "Your baby brother or sister is in there."

This time, the twins believe that they have a little sibling in there since they can see it yet not be able to see it at the same time. Both of them are stoked by the fact that they are going to have a little brother or sister and it's currently in their mother's stomach.

"How did the baby get in there?" They both ask their mother.

America's smile quickly goes from happy to cautious as the curious eyes of her twins blink up her in anticipation of her answer. America lightly bites her bottom lip as she turns to Maxon for help on this. Maxon pretends to distract himself with his camera, leaving America alone to come up with a story.

"A stork delivered it," Maxon exclaims.

"A cabbage patch!" America exclaims at exactly the same time.

Eadlyn and Ahren look back and forth between their parents, their curious eyes now downright confused. Maxon and America look at one another, unsure of how to make this situation better.

"A stork delivered it to a cabbage patch," America explains not really making the situation better.

"A stork got it from a cabbage patch," Maxon explains at exactly the same time, making the situation worse.

The twins are even more confused now. At this point, Maxon and America don't really know how they could diffuse the issue without throwing lighter fluid into the fire. The truth to how a baby is made is a conversation for another day.

 _Month Five_

"Maxon!" America exclaims as he lowers the camera. Her hands are on top of her baby bump.

"What?!" Maxon exclaims, dropping his precious camera onto the bed and running over to his precious wife.

"The baby kicked!" America exclaims.

Left speechless, America puts Maxon's hands on her baby bump. They both lean forwards to look down at their baby, smiling contently as they both feel another set of kicks. Their foreheads rest against one another and they can feel the other laugh.

 _Month Six_

Maxon takes the picture and to his surprise, America signs exhaustedly. She throws her hair into a swirling bun and throws her arms down.

"Thank god that's done," America says. "I just want to lie down." She lies on her bed carefully. "I am so big now and I know it'll get worse. I just want this baby out. Damn you for making me pregnant again."

Maxon scratches the back of his neck. A part of him wants to point out the photos he took of her at the two-month mark of her pregnancy and remind her of when she said there was no baby there, but the better part of him knows to keep his mouth shut.

"I love you, dear," Maxon says to her in hopes to lighten her spirits.

It doesn't work to the degree he wants, but America smirks back from the corner of her mouth.

 _Month Seven_

Maxon focuses the camera on America and can't help but notice that America has her hands on her baby bump but her mind is completely somewhere else in thought. Maxon lowers his camera for a second and waves his hand above his head to get her attention.

Nothing.

His wife is completely zoned out.

"America?" Maxon questions.

America snaps back into reality and looks at him. Her eyes are spooked out.

"What is it?" He asks.

"What if we secretly have twins in here that the doctor couldn't spot?" America questions. "Those stories do exist."

Maxon is left speechless. No smart comment or an 'I love you, dear' can help him out of this.

 _Month Eight_

"If only I could fit into my regular jeans," America says.

She looks up nostalgically, reminiscing those denim days where she wore her comfortable jeans as opposed to her comfortable maternity jeans. She hasn't worn those beloved jeans in months.

"Just one more month," Maxon says encouragingly as he lowers the camera.

"One more?" America scoffs. "Ha, I wish."

America laughs a little. Maxon isn't sure what was so funny about what he said. He isn't sure if he should laugh along or just keep quiet.

"If only post-delivery weight wasn't a thing," America states.

"I had no clue that was a thing," Maxon replies.

America gives him a look. "Nice save, Maxon Schreave, nice save."

 _Month Nine_

America is in a state of pure bliss which makes the final photo all the more beautiful. Maxon knows that this photo won't do justice to what he can see with his own two eyes. His wife just carries that type of beauty that can only be seen and appreciated with their own eyes.

America looks down at her baby bump that has now finished growing. Her smile is the brightest that it has ever been as tears of pure joy form in the corners of her eyes and fall onto her baby bump. America couldn't fathom that the baby in there will soon be in her arms.

"You aren't even born but I already love you so much..." America mutters to her baby.

* * *

 **Nine photos in one chapter. Go me! I am such trash for babies it's so cute.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- America gets a very catchy tune stuck in her head.**


	82. Photo 82: You're Welcome

**Y'all, I have written this idea in another one of my stories and I think it will be perfect for this one as well. If any of you have seen that iconic movie _Easy A_ , then you know what you're in for...or maybe not because I changed the song.**

 **Copyright: I don't own the song BUT DO NOT BE FOOLED BY THE CONTENTS OF THIS CHAPTER, I ACTUALLY LOVE THE SONG! A LOT!**

* * *

Photo #82: You're Welcome

Eadlyn has seen photos of many notable and historic or intellects all doing the same pose: reading a dusty informative-looking book while pretending not to know their picture was being taken. (Those photos are obviously staged since nobody actually reads those heavy books while standing up or just in general).

That's what Eadlyn thought the photo was at first glance since her mother was standing and reading something. But the longer Eadlyn looks at the photo, the more strange it is. First off, her mother looks like she's singing and she isn't even reading a songbook.

It's a card.

The next picture on the wall is of her mother singing with a card in her hands. Eadlyn has no idea how to interpret this.

-o-

In her hands, America holds an envelope that was sent from her younger sister, May. America spends a few moments looking at what the content of the envelope might be since it wasn't for any holiday or her birthday. America runs her fingers across the envelope, feeling for anything bumpy to check for any items inside.

Nothing. She begins to tear through the envelope.

It's a card with a cartoon island on it with high-rising waves and a sailboat. In gold cursive on the sand, it has _'I forgot to respond to your thanks so...'_

America opens the card and her ears fill up with loud music.

 _"Open your eyes, let's begin. Yes, it's really me, breathe it in. I know it's a lot, the hair, the bod. When you're staring at a demigod. So what can I say except 'You're welcome'. For the tide, the sun, the sky. Hey, it's okay, it's okay, you're welcome. I'm just an ordinary demi-guy. So what can I say except 'You're welcome'. For the tide, the sun, the sky. Hey, it's okay, it's okay, you're welcome. I'm just an ordinary demi-guy."_

America cringes as she closes the card. She shakes her head in hopes that she could forget the last few moments of her life from ever happening. She wonders what she ever did to May to receive a 'you're welcome' in this irritating way.

"Worst song ever," America states.

In the middle of the night, America wakes up from the state of trying to sleep and failing. She sits up on her bed and looks to her nightstand only to see that stupid card looking back at her. America picks it up and opens it. She forgot about the music in there and closes the card immediately once it starts blasting. America holds her breath as she looks at her sleeping husband next to her. He doesn't even budge which means that he gratefully didn't hear the card.

America slowly opens the card again and listens to the song a few times. The more she listens to it, the more the rhythm finds itself being demonstrated in her body whether that'd be through tapping her fingers against her thighs or nodding her head.

She might actually like this song. A lot.

"Open your eyes, let's begin," America sings along. "Yes, it's really me, breathe it in."

Maxon wakes up a little and turns over to see America singing along with that card. Thinking that this is all some strange dream of his, he just goes back to sleep with his pillow over his head to block out the noise.

The next morning, Maxon wakes up yet again to America singing that card which confirms the fact that it was all real and not a dream. Normally, he loves listening to America sing but not to some weird song on a constant loop. She didn't even have to be saying the words aloud for the song to be present, she would be humming the tune or tapping whatever she can to play the beat.

And it's been going on for hours. Who knew someone could get so attached to a song so quickly?

At one point, Maxon plants a kiss on America to cut her off from singing. America is taken by surprise but accepts it.

"That was to calm you down," Maxon tells her, holding her shoulders as he looks directly into her eyes.

America smiles a little. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

America's face lights up and Maxon instantly regrets saying those two trigger words. America begins swaying from side-to-side, holding Maxon's arms as if they were dancing to the song. Well, she was shimmying and he was just standing with his feet planted on the ground.

"So what can I say except 'You're welcome'," America sings to him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before skipping off to continue singing that song.

Another day passes and that song is still being sung by America. It's gotten to that point where everyone in the palace knows that song and some of them are even singing along. It's spreading around like the plague up to the point where it might become Illéa's new national anthem. It's also gotten to that point where Maxon feels the need to take a picture of America singing with the card just in case he has to submit something to the asylum on how America lost her mind.

"I am not singing that," Maxon says to himself. "Never ever."

Maxon thinks of banning all communications to and from May Singer in the palace for sending that stupid card. But he discarded that idea since May is his sister-in-law and that would be cruel. A better idea would be to invite May over to _enjoy_ this spectacle. Or better yet, Maxon thinks that he'll send May a similar card without the batteries just so she'll be more frustrated with not hearing a stupid, corny song she would be expecting. In his eyes, it's a perfect revenge plan considering that he has to suffer through all this.

He makes a note to himself to pick out a card.

"I know it's a lot, the hair, the bod," America continues singing. "When you're staring at a demigod."

After even more hours of hearing America sing this song like a broken record, Maxon realizes that silence is actually something you could hear and boy, did he miss it. He didn't want to succumb to this song but then he realizes his foot subconsciously tapping along to the beat.

It's too late for him to escape now.

"So what can I say except 'You're welcome'," America sings, noticing Maxon's sudden involvement in the song. She holds her hands out to him and shakes her hips. "For the tide, the sun, the sky. Hey, it's okay, it's okay, you're welcome."

Maxon sighs before taking America's hands. He figures that it's easier to just sing along to this fad of hers rather than just fight against it.

"Open your eyes, let's begin," America starts.

"Yes it's really me, breathe it in," Maxon continues.

"I know it's a lot, the hair, the bod. When you're staring at a demigod."

"So what can I say except 'You're welcome'. For the tide, the sun, the sky. Hey, it's okay, it's okay, you're welcome. I'm just an ordinary demi-guy."

"So what can I say except 'You're welcome'. For the tide, the sun, the sky. Hey, it's okay, it's okay, you're welcome. I'm just an ordinary demi-guy."

Both of them stand and wait for the song to start again, but to their surprise, nothing comes but silence. Maxon and America look at the card that sits on a table and sees that the card isn't doing anything. The battery must have finally died after being used for so many days in a row. (Maxon's surprised it didn't die sooner). Maxon feels relieved, unlike America who feels sort of empty without that song. He can't help but wonder if that would've happened sooner if he sang with her earlier as opposed to now.

"Thank you for finally stopping your singing," Maxon tells her.

America smiles, thinking about the song. "You're welcome."

* * *

 **This is one of those chapters where I ask myself what is wrong with me because right now, I am America. I've been listening to my babe, Jordan Fisher's, cover of this song on a constant loop and just bopping around for the past week. And I was listening to it while writing and proofreading this.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- some works of art are better off when left unexplained...**


	83. Photo 83: You're My Muse

**To my queenie, Anj0921, I told you a VERY long time ago that I had this idea somewhere in my master list of chapters and now it is here. You probably don't remember this and frankly, neither did I.**

 ** _Warning_ \- lots of (sexual) innuendos.**

* * *

Photo #83: You're My Muse

The next photo isn't even a Polaroid photo like the others. It's an actual painting with real paint on a real canvas. It's not even a good painting that you'd put up in art galleries. It resembles something Osten would paint with his non-dominant hand and blindfolded.

It was a rectangle with two small legs on its bottom ends. On top of the rectangle was a stick figure lying down on the rectangle, with a pink skirt and red hair that looks like squiggles with a yellow crown on top. That is the part that makes Eadlyn believe that the stick figure in the painting is her mother. However, the red lips sort of throw her off since her mother isn't the 'dark-lipstick-wearing' type of woman. The fact that her father signed the portrait at the bottom throws her off even more.

What is this painting? What does it mean? Does Eadlyn want to know?

-o-

After a long day of work, Maxon is ready to just unwind and go to sleep which will only lead to another day of the same rigorous work. He opens his bedroom door and falls back on it as it closes. He looks over and sees America exiting their ensuite, already prepped for bed in her silky and possibly scandalous pajamas. Maxon's eyes roam up and down her body which makes America stop walking and strike a pose just to enlighten him.

"Are you wearing makeup?" Maxon asks, finally noticing something different about his beautiful wife.

"Kinda forgot to take it off," she replies, popping her lips at the end of that sentence.

Maxon smirks. "Did you have special plans for tonight, my dear?"

He raises an eyebrow at her with interrogating eyes. America's heart skips a beat as she feels her spirits lighten up.

"Maybe I did," she responds confidently, tugging on the collar of his shirt.

Maxon snickers. "Well, if my guesses for your plans are correct then there's no need for cake on your face, you get enough of that on your birthday."

America puts her hands on her hips, an action which Maxon loved, especially when her hands were on top of a lacy waistband.

"Sit, sit," Maxon says, pointing to their bed. "Let's have some fun."

America suddenly grins wildly, the apples of her cheeks slowly tinging red like her hair. She strides over to the bed on her tiptoes and gently sits on the edge. America's eyes never leave Maxon as she crosses her legs. Maxon takes slow steps towards her, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to the crook of his elbows.

 _Moments Later_

"This was _not_ what I had in mind," America states.

"I have always wanted to try this," Maxon replies excitedly.

America whines. "Are you almost done?"

"Not even close. I just started."

"Was the crown necessary?"

"I have a fantasy."

"So do I and this was definitely not it."

"Oh, maybe next time we can reenact one of your fantasies."

Maxon looks from behind his canvas to look at his wife who's posing for him on their beds. America currently gives him the most distasteful look to contrast his goofy grin. He holds an easel filled with various paints and a brush in his hands. America looks bored out of her mind despite her pose being her lying on her side, facing him. All he really wanted to do was paint her portrait and give a salute to his possibly non-existent artistic side.

"I should have been an artist," Maxon says, looking at his canvas before returning his eyes to his wife. "I mean, look at this portrait. You're my muse, my dear."

Instead of being flattered, America rolls her eyes. She can't deal with this but if a good portrait comes out then maybe she'll forgive Maxon for making her be in this pose for hours. And who knows, maybe she'll get something she _actually_ wanted in the first place. To be fair, she thought Maxon wanted the same thing at the moment before he pulled out a canvas and some paints along with a fake crown.

"Now, I am done!" Maxon exclaims.

"Let me see!" America exclaims, rushing off the bed.

She stops just before the canvas and waits in anticipation for the portrait reveal. Maxon turns the canvas around in one swoop and America's jaw immediately hits the ground at the horrendous work that Maxon's calls her portrait. It's just a stick figure of her on a rectangle. She was expecting a masterpiece given the amount of time she had to pose for.

"I'm appalled and offended," America tells him. "No one would give a dime for that."

"On the contrary," Maxon argues. "Valuable and classic paintings can sell for billions."

"This isn't a classic. You just painted it and not only is it horrible but a painting sells for more of the painter is dead."

Maxon continues smirking. "True, true, my dear, but take this into consideration - this is a portrait of the Queen, painted by the King."

America thinks about that as she watches Maxon sign his name in the corner with a thin brush and black paint. Then, she nods, finally seeing the value in a trashy painting.

"You should've put the royal seal on it," America suggests.

"Nonsense!" Maxon exclaims. "That would ruin the painting."

"Sure, Maxon, the _seal_ is what will ruin the painting." She rolls her eyes playfully.

"People will pay for this."

"Yeah..." America mutters. "Too bad it'll never leave this room."

America picks up the canvas and puts it on the side. As she brushes her hands off and feels Maxon grab her from behind and pick her up. America screams in laughter like an excited child as she lands on the bed and Maxon pounces on top of her, planting kisses on her neck.

"Now, we can have the fun you've been waiting for..." Maxon mutters to her.

* * *

 **That is the limit to what kind of smut you can expect from this story.**

 **I was going to have America say something sexy like "paint me like one of your French girls" but remembered that Daphne was French and that would be so weird and inappropriate.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- America's second and third opinions are not being helpful at all.**


	84. Photo 84: At the Ball

**Do you ever just look at all the un-started papers you still have to write for school but you're here instead? I do and the total is so many that I lost count.**

 ** _Copyright_ \- Barbie as the Island Princess (At the Ball) because I'm trash for Barbie flicks even though they're sometimes trash.**

* * *

Photo #84: At the Ball

If there hasn't been a relatable picture up to this point, Eadlyn has finally found one. This one has her smiling since she could actually picture herself in this exact situation.

The photo has Eadlyn's mother is standing on those pedestals that are found in a tailor's studio. She holds her hand up to her forehead in annoyance as May and Marlee stand on opposite sides of her, seeming to be bickering over fabrics they're holding above her mother for reference. Eadlyn has no idea why May and Marlee would be fighting but the longer she looks at the rage on their faces, did she really want to know?

-o-

America has an upcoming charity gala to attend and her biggest issue is picking a dress to wear. The fashion police's eyes have been on her since the Selection and now that she's the Queen of Illéa, they'll be examining her like a vulture to its prey. Every detail of her dress was looked at, from head to toe. America not only had to embody the word 'perfection', but she also had to wear something she hasn't done before or else they will mark her for that as well.

Sometimes, America finds it harder to prepare for a ball in comparison to actually being at them. Lucky for her, she has two of her best girls, May and Marlee, to help her out with that. Well, at least she thought she would be helping. Usually, the two girls would agree in terms of fashion but for some reason, today was not one of those days.

America stands in the middle of the tailor's studio, in front of a series of mirrors which have several dresses from various designers that were all sent to America in hopes that she would wear them to the gala. Scattered all over the floor are photos of America from the past in every ballgown she's ever worn to make sure that doesn't wear anything too similar to avoid a havoc - or worse, wear the same dress as someone else which is a bigger deal than it seems to be. By America's sides to help with the process are May and Marlee who are currently hovering over the pictures and studying them carefully.

"How about this dress," May says, picking one from their choices and holding it over America's body to see how it looks. "Billowing skirts with tied up sleeves has not been done before by you. And with this, you could tease your hair up to show off some flare."

America nods, taking that suggestion into consideration. She holds the dress at her own body to see how it would fit with the tailor's adjustments. When she glances up at the mirror, she sees Marlee shaking her head.

"She's a queen, not a duchess," Marlee says, cringing a little at May's idea.

"Do you have anything better?" May asks.

Marlee nods with a grin on her face. America steps down from the brewing tension and fashion rivalry. May places her hands on her hips, waiting to see what dress Marlee picked out to up her game.

"I think bodices that wrap around are the height of style," Marlee says, keeping her eyes on the pictures. "Deeper necklines are naturally daring. Maybe wear this dress and a smile."

Marlee picks up a deep green satin dress with a neckline that plunged a little deeper than usual. She holds it up against America with one hand and forces her to smile with the other hand. Marlee smiles at her idea, unlike May.

"We should go with something satin," May says, holding up some fabric samples. "Maybe add a simple headpiece and handbag. That's how to make an entrance at the ball."

"No," Marlee simply states. "Just, no. I think you should lose the silly head thing."

May opens her mouth to an offense. "No way!"

"I'm the one who's been to these before." Marlee perks up. "I know! Orange ombré the best thing."

For a second, May's face changes. It seems like Marlee's words are strangely persuasive. May and even America find themselves feeling kindly towards her. Then, May's face drops.

May scoffs. "Definitely the best thing to ignore."

America holds back her laughter at that witty response. Marlee narrows her eyes as May fakes a gag. America stands on the tailor's pedestal to avoid this seismic explosion of a fight. Nobody notices that Maxon slowly opens the door to check in on the process, not knowing what was happening behind that closed door.

"Flowing skirt!" May screams.

"Trumpet skirt!" Marlee screams back.

"Loose!"

"Tight!"

"More!"

"Less!"

"Dark!"

"Bright!"

America throws her arms in the air. "Stop!"

Maxon backs out, pretending that he never saw all this. Thank god the women never noticed him walking in or else he would've had to have given his opinion which would've resulted in a war. Marlee and May turn to face America.

"There is something good in what you're saying," America says slowly, lowering her hands. "I know that if I go, I have to look like a queen - classic and modern. It would tie in the old-fashioned Illéa with the future."

With that proposition out in the open, the three women look at the photos together in reference to what they have in front of them to work with.

"I look nice in shades of blue," America says. "It's been done by myself so many times but I think that the color is a factor we could repeat as long as the exact shade is different."

From that, May and Marlee separate all the blue dresses and organize them by specific shades from lightest to darkest. America stands in front of them, examining each and every dress carefully. Her eyes linger for longer over the dark blue dress that has a corset-like bodice and a skirt that flows up until it's cut off at the ankle. The skirt has swirling patterns on it which continue on the sheer sleeves.

"This one," America says, picking it out.

America holds it over her body and spins around as if she was wearing the dress herself. This dress combined both Marlee and May's ideas in a way.

"Something pink would pop out and look great," Marlee suggests.

May picks up a pair of baby pink heels with a little sparkle on the toes. America takes off her current shoes and slips into the heels, keeping the dress in front of her. As she looks at her reflection, Marlee and May add simple jewelry that sparkle like the night sky to her look. Once they're finished, they look at the final product in the mirror and their eyes open in sheer amazement.

"And with this, you're guaranteed to enthrall," Marlee comments.

"Now you'll take their breath away!" May exclaims, clapping her hands together excitedly.

As the three girls cheer, Maxon steps back in quietly. He's glad to see them now hugging instead of harassing one another. He has perfect timing when it comes to these type of things.

* * *

 **This just makes me think about how I'll have to pick out a grad dress in the upcoming future.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- Tis the season to try and not sound clichéd!**


	85. Photo 85: Jingles My Bells

**MERRY CHRISTMAS MY LOVELY READERS!**

* * *

Photo #85: Jingles My Bells

Ah, yes, it's that time of year again. Well, it is in terms of the photos on the wall. In Eadlyn's current time, she hasn't moved from her spot ever since she got here but none of that matters since she's here to erase her mind from what just happened. These photos give her happiness and safety in her current feeling of fear and sadness.

Just like this Christmas photo. It has America and Marlee sitting at a desk together. On the surface of the desk are a series of opened Christmas cards and envelopes. Both America and Marlee sit with pens in their hands and Christmas tinsel wrapped around their necks - and that was the most holiday spirit that was present.

Little does Eadlyn know the struggle America and Marlee had to face while writing these cards. And little do America and Marlee in the photo know that Eadlyn's situation just jingles her bells.

-o-

As a promise the Elite girls made with one another near the end of Maxon's selection, America and Marlee are in the midst of writing the Christmas cards that will be sent to Natalie, Kriss, and Elise. The two of them decided that they would go with blank cards so they could write their own messages that were personalized and tailored for each recipient. No Hallmark card could properly express their own thoughts and feelings. They thought that this was going to be an easy task but boy, were they wrong, very _very_ wrong.

"How's this," America starts, "'Happy holidays!'"

Marlee's face doesn't budge one bit. "Basic, much?"

"I'm all out of ideas."

"That implies that you actually _had_ ideas."

As Marlee smirks and laughs a little to herself, America narrows her eyes. The two women look down at their blank cards and opened pens with no motivation to actually write a heartfelt message in the cards. Both women sit back in their chairs, sipping their eggnog and contemplating deeply on what words to write in fancy cursive.

"Why is this hard to do?" Marlee questions. "We have known these girls for years."

"We're just trying to not make it cheesy," America replies. "Or write the same thing we did last year."

"What did we write last year?"

"No clue."

The girls sip on their eggnog some more, hoping that some inspiration will come to them the more they drink. America and Marlee look at one another, seeing if inspiration will come from them even though nobody has any ideas. Their mugs of egg nog are finished, and just like their mugs their minds are empty.

"I don't know what to say," Marlee states, running her hair through her hands as America refills their mugs.

"We'll find the right words eventually," America replies optimistically. "A person's thoughts could get so mixed up that their words no longer make sense."

"I think that happened to us when we decided to wear tinsel around our necks because it would 'envoke our holiday thoughts'."

America pauses, setting down the egg nog jug back on its tray just so she could examine their situation. In addition to their egg nog in order to boost the Chritstmas writing vibes, they were wearing decorating tinsel around their necks.

"This was your idea," America tells Marlee, gripping the tinsel in her hands. "Just think of these as feather boas."

"With itchy and plastic non-looking feathers," Marlee responds.

"Hey, we're trying to let out our inner Santa, not Scrooge and it was your idea."

"Maybe we could just sleep on this and three spirits will come to us in the middle of the night with a message to write."

"We have to mail these by tomorrow if the cards are going to get there by Christmas."

"Speaking of the postal service, maybe we send everyone a package of candy canes they won't notice the absence of a card."

America actually puts that thought into consideration. Candy canes would make a good replacement. Even if people don't like candy canes, they still keep them around for longer than they would a card. But no, these women were committed to writing cards and that's what they are going to do.

Marlee suddenly gasps, startling America.

"I have a message!" Marlee exclaims. "'The fact that I can't think of a message really jingles my bells.'"

America laughs a little. "I'm writing that down!"

"Hey!" Marlee screams as America starts writing on her card. "I came up with that first!"

"Too bad," America says, capping her pen with a grin on her face. "I already wrote it in ink!"

Marlee grabs America's card and with her own pen, she writes in quotation marks around her statement and signs her name under her quote. Marlee thrives out of America's death glare as she caps her pen.

"You ruined my card!" America exclaims.

"I made your card better with my quote and signature." Marlee flips her tinsel over her shoulder with pride.

"Just for that, I'm not writing you a Christmas card this year."

"Considering the messages you've been wanting to write to other people, I'm okay with that."

America is so offended, that her jaw drops wide open. "When did you become so sassy?"

"No idea."

"Your sass jingles my bells."

"You stealing my messages jingles _my_ bells."

America and Marlee stare at each other with this Christmas-infused tension in the air. Then, they look back at the fact that they're both wearing Christmas tinsel around their necks and burst out laughing. Marlee refills their mugs of egg nog again and the two women clink their glasses.

"Maybe we should just send candy canes," America says.

"Yeah..." Marlee agrees. "Hope that doesn't jingle their bells."

* * *

 **Apparently in Celeste's chapters in _Happily Ever After,_ the Elite girls said they would keep in touch with Christmas cards.**

 **THIS IS LITERALLY ME WRITING CARDS! I cannot write cards for the life of me. In fact, when I give gifts to people, I will never write a card. I don't even buy a card.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- Don't fall asleep before 12...**

 **And please go vote on the poll on my profile since it has something to do with what story I will publish in the future!**


	86. Photo 86: Champagne Cuddles

**HAPPY 2018!**

* * *

Photo #86: Champagne Cuddles

It wasn't until she was thirteen that Eadlyn was able to stay up past midnight on New Year's Eve. Every year before that she would just fall asleep. At first, it was because she was too young and her parents forced her to go to bed, she would sneak up and stay awake on her own but failed, and when her parents did allow her to stay up she would still fall asleep. There was really no point in staying up since you would forget it was a New Year by the next day.

The next photo is obviously a New Year's party that was closed to only Eadlyn's parents and Mr. and Mrs. Woodwork. Carter is sitting on the couch next to America who sits next to Maxon. The three of them clink their freshly filled champagne glasses as Marlee sleeps, lying on top of all three of them. Marlee's champagne glass is in Carter's free hand, also included in the clinking of the other glasses.

Eadlyn isn't exactly sure who she would be in this photo, Marlee or everyone else?

-o-

At 10 PM, the kids claimed with the most notable determination that they were going to make it to the next year. Unfortunate for them, they clocked out about thirty minutes later, falling asleep after one another like a set of dominos. It's currently 11 PM and only the parents remained awake. That is when the champagne comes out of refrigeration. At least now, there's more champagne for them and the kids won't be jumping at their waists begging for sips and end up spirting it out in disgust.

The adults aka America, Marlee, Maxon, and Carter all had one plan for the hour until midnight: let the time pass as they eat their weight in appetizers and drink the same weight in champagne. And to add on to the spirit of New Year's Eve, they were all wearing matching pajamas that were dark like the night sky and decorated with metallic-colored fireworks. It was the girls' idea and the boys only went with it because the pajamas were super comfy.

"I don't think I'm going to make it," Marlee says, yawning as she pops another cheese cube in her mouth. "I'm going to bed."

"No!" America exclaims at the exact same time Maxon pops open their champagne bottle and Carter cheers. (Perfect timing, not a coincidence at all). "It's drinking time!"

Marlee yawns again. "No, it's sleep time."

Maxon pours out four glasses of champagne and puts the opened bottle back in a pail of ice. He takes two glasses and Carter takes the remaining two. Maxon keeps one for himself and gives the second to America whereas Carter does the same except giving it to Marlee.

"Come on, Marlee," Carter encourages, "we're still young and the kids aren't around. Have a few sips and you'll be wide awake in no time."

Carter snaps his fingers in Marlee's face which she doesn't even acknowledge. She only gives her glass back to Carter.

"I'm a tired drunk," Marlee states.

"There is less than an hour to go," Maxon encourages. "You can sleep a second after the clock strikes twelve. You can make it, and like my dear wife said, it's drinking time!"

Maxon and America clink their glasses together. Carter nods in agreement, giving Marlee some glances. Marlee, on the other hand, is still not convinced to stay up and just wants to sleep.

"And like I said, it's sleep time," Marlee says with another yawn. "Besides, Carter, if we sleep, we'll look even younger."

"Good point," Carter says. His agreement shocked everyone else in the room. "I could sleep as well but only if we cuddle when the clock strikes 12."

Maxon lights up. "Oh, I like that idea."

Carter cringes at him. "I wasn't talking about cuddling with you."

Maxon returns the same grimace. "Neither was I. I'm not starting the new year in your arms."

"Ditto."

America clears her throat to get everyone's attention. "I'm not starting the new year listening to this possibly happening fantasy. Though entertaining to see, I'd rather not see someone else in my husband's arms."

"Ditto," Marlee says, taking her champagne glass back from Carter.

Marlee takes a sip and wraps her arms around Carter's waist. In return, Carter wraps an arm around Marlee's shoulders. Maxon and America lean into one another, raising their glasses for their friends.

"To Marlee, determined to survive the remaining - " America quickly glances at Maxon's watch. " - thirty-five minutes till midnight."

All of them raise their glasses, some champagne spilling out onto their shoes. Marlee blushes a little, still tired as hell and wanting to sleep but she will make it to midnight. She will witness the changing of years and watch the clock strike twelve.

And she did.

Not only did Marlee make it until midnight, but everyone else did and that prompted the opening of a second champagne bottle. They cheered and celebrated for about a minute until they all collapsed on the couch and Marlee fell asleep on top of all of them.

"Well..." America mutters, sandwiched in between Carter and Maxon with Marlee partially on her lap (her head was on Carter's lap, her torso on America, and her legs on Maxon). "That was fun."

"Yup," Maxon agrees, sipping his champagne. "Best sixty seconds of my life."

"At least Marlee made it," Carter points out.

The three of them clink their glasses. Carter even adds Marlee's glass to that.

* * *

 **Truth be told, I was tired by like 11:00 PM but I stuck through until midnight.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- An unexpected surprise is coming up (in February 2018 because I will not be updating until then)**

 **Go vote in the poll on my page and I'll see you soon!**


	87. Photo 87: A Blissful Surprise

**IM BACK GUYS! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! (This isn't a Valentine's Day chapter per se but it's as fluffy as one).**

 ** _Copyright_ \- Boy Meets World (Prom-ises, Prom-ises)**

* * *

Photo #87: A Blissful Surprise

Eadlyn isn't really sure how to take the next set of photos. They're all close-ups of her father's face with different facial expressions on it that range from confused to overjoyed to entertained to stunned. Eadlyn's face currently resembles the first one of her father since she has no idea what is going on.

The thing about all these photos is that the ones like these have no context so Eadlyn is just supposed to interpret them as she wants to. The problem with that is her interpretation will definitely be far off so she'll never really know what the story behind these photos of her father's various facial expressions is, but when she gets out of this room and this whole situation is cleared up, she better remember to ask.

-o-

"Come in," Maxon replies to a set of knocks on his office's door.

Maxon looks up from his paperwork to see America walk in through the open door. She closes it behind her with a giddy smile on her face as she prances over to Maxon's desk. Maxon already smiles even though he has no idea what his wife is doing here or that she has his camera in her hands for that matter. America stops at the empty corner of his desk and takes a seat on it. Before Maxon could get a word out, America snaps a picture of his face. He knew something was up since America knocked before coming in, but that action just confirmed his suspicions.

"What was that for?" Maxon asks.

"Were you busy?" America asks instead.

"Not really, but even if I was, you would still be here."

America snickers as her eyes look down. Her fingers twiddle with the camera. Maxon still notices that the dimples on her face from the smile she had while walking in were still there and yet, he still hasn't asked why.

"Here," America says, reaching into the back of her jeans pocket and handing Maxon an object.

Maxon takes it into his hands and looks at it. A second snapshot coming from America distracts him for a moment but he regains his focus. As his face studies whatever America gave him, her small giggles make him lose focus all over again. Maxon looks up at her and squeezes her waist as he goes back to the object.

It's a small white stick with some pale pink and blue features that Maxon doesn't bother to read since those are all brand name stuff. His eyes go over to a cove in the middle of the stick that is a film-like screen with two pink lines on it - his mind goes blank for a second because he finally knows what this is. The camera clicks for the third time.

Maxon is looking at a pregnancy test. It doesn't even faze him that on his hands is a stick that involves a process of being peed on, it's a pregnancy test. A _positive_ pregnancy test to be exact. Why else would America show him this unless -

"America!" Maxon exclaims, hopping out of his seat. Some papers from his desk fly off but he doesn't care to pick them up.

America claps her hands together at this new joy in their lives. Maxon quickly goes to hug her tightly, swaying her frame back and forth on the corner she still sits on. America shakes, not because she's cold but because she can't contain this feeling of excitement any more than he can.

"Is this real?" Maxon asks her, just to be sure. "Is this actually true and not some sort of weird and twisted prank?"

"Of course not," America replies. "Why would you think that? I'd prank you with something way funnier."

Maxon doesn't even process that latter statement. "I'm just saying. We didn't plan to have a fourth baby, at least not _now_."

America scoffs. "None of our kids were planned on the dot. I find that true love thrives best in the realm of blissful surprise."

America grins and Maxon pulls her into a kiss. This is all still so surreal to him that his joy comes out as a laugh, mid-kiss. His wife is pregnant with their fourth child. The genuine shock feels like he was being told she was pregnant for the first time. America smirks, feeling his laugh mere inches from her face.

"Come," Maxon says, "we need to celebrate this."

Maxon takes her hand and leads her away from his desk and out of the office. He could continue his work another day since it wasn't urgent and he just found out that he's going to have another baby. He has his priorities and his family always comes first.

"I wasn't expecting to be this happy!" Maxon tells her. "And happiness isn't something you can quantify!"

"Same here," America replies, getting another snapshot of his face. "I can't believe we get to relive the pregnancy days all over again. Morning sickness and fatigue are a pain in the ass, but cravings are interesting. And then there are the maternity clothes, baby showers - huh, maybe someone will give us condoms at our next one. And maybe we do need a pair."

America nudges him. Maxon grins and then remembers that she just said the word 'baby shower'. Those were such haunting words that gave him flashbacks to Kaden's baby shower. Sure, it was fun...for America who got the gifts while he had to manage his chaotic twins.

"Oh god..." Maxon mutters. "We have to have another one of those?"

He catches America's glare and Maxon quickly sucks in his stomach. If there's one thing he's learned about pregnant wives or just wives in general, it's to never get them angry. Besides, as that old mantra goes 'happy wife, happy life.'

"I mean, yay!" Maxon exclaims. "We get to have another one of those."

"You better have meant that," America says.

"Can't you see me smiling about it?"

Maxon gives her a smile. It was obviously a fake smile, but still, it was a smile. America knows that and just captures a picture of it.

* * *

 **If I were to ever tell my future husband that I was pregnant, I would do it like this.**

 **Check out the poll on my profile if you haven't already!**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- Maxon falls for this next surprise (no, I didn't intentionally plan two surprise-related chapters in a row)**


	88. Photo 88: Birthday in Bed

**I'm just going to put it out there that I'm glad that I published America's birthday chapter on her actual birthday...unlike last year when I was about a week late. But in all honesty, I almost forgot to publish this.**

* * *

Photo #88: Birthday in Bed

This is another happy photo that makes a smile appear on Eadlyn's face. It seems to be taking place early in the morning. Eadlyn is a young child with her brothers, all of them on their parents' bed, smothering their mother with hugs, kisses, laughs, and smiles. For a moment, Eadlyn wonders where her father is but then she realizes that _someone_ had to be taking the photo. It was most definitely him.

From that last thought comes more questions about the photo.

What angle was her after taking this photo from? The way Eadlyn understands it, the photo seems to be taken like an aerial shot but from the ground, which makes no sense in the terms she put it as. Was her dad _on the ground_ when taking this photo? As ridiculous as that sounds, it really seems like the case here... That just makes Eadlyn wonder _why_ her father was even on the floor.

-o-

The sunlight peers through his bedroom window. Maxon's eyes flutter open and adjust to the brightness. He takes a few seconds to just lie in bed and then a surge of happiness hits him when he remembers that today is his wife's birthday. Maxon turns over and sees America still asleep underneath a mess of her pillows, her bright curls, and their shared sheets.

A smirk approaches his face and not only because of how cute and peaceful his wife looks right now. He thinks that he should wake his wife up by screaming 'happy birthday' to her like an alarm clock, even though she has the right to sleep in on her birthday. Not only would she wake up with a smile on her face but she wouldn't get mad or ignore him like people would to an actual alarm clock - especially since unlike the household object, he will drown his wife with kisses. She'd be too busy kissing him back to yell at him or go back to sleep.

The moment Maxon sits up in bed and gets ready to initiate his plan, his bedroom doors burst open. Maxon jumps a little under the sheets as a stampede of footprints run in at full force. America stirs in her sleep and peeks her eyes in the small opening of the sheets just to wonder what is happening. Her eyes widen at the sight of her children as they excitedly jump on her.

"Happy birthday, mom!" They all scream in sync.

"Thank you!" America yells back.

America cheers in excitement as she pops out of her bedroom cocoon to hug all of her children. All of the noise and sudden movement in the span of seconds catches Maxon by surprise and he falls out of the bed, right on the floor. He lies there for a few seconds, listening to the laughs from his family, and just stays there. The joy radiating from them almost makes him almost forget about the fact that he's on the floor.

That is what prompts him to take a photo from the floor. Not only is it a special occasion but it reminds him to never get mad over the happiness of others, especially since he's currently lower than them. Also, the same could happen on his birthday except with America on the floor. Now, he can't wait for that day to happen. The day where he feels the love and not the floor.

"Maxon, did the kids bring pancakes?" America asks.

Maxon sniffs the air and picks up the pleasant scent which is probably what America noticed and asked. He scoots over to the other side of the bed and sees a breakfast tray sitting on the ottoman. It's a stack of pancakes covered with sticky syrup and powdered sugar, topped with some unlit birthday candles. The kids definitely did not make those but still, they looked great. The only thing he wonders about is how the kids ran in here and the pancakes stayed in an absolutely perfect condition. Then, Maxon realizes that America asked about the pancakes and not his physical wellbeing since he fell on the floor a few minutes ago.

"I could've died!" Maxon exclaims.

America peeks over the edge and sees Maxon kneeling beside her pancakes. She smirks as her arms wrap around their kids again.

"Don't be so melodramatic," America tells him. "The worst that could've happened was breaking all the bones in your body."

Maxon rolls his eyes. He looks at the pancakes and tears a piece for himself, tossing it in his mouth.

"Those are supposed to be mine," America tells him.

"And they taste great," he responds.

"Well, I'll never know now, will I?"

"I'll change that."

America smirks excitedly as the kids settle beside her and she sits up against the bed frame. Maxon picks up the platter of pancakes and climbs onto the center of the bed. America reaches forwards for her pancakes but Maxon keeps them to himself. He takes the fork in his hand and cuts off a piece of the pancake to feed to her. America leans forwards and takes the bite. They tasted so good that America knows that her kids did not make these.

"Happy birthday, my dear," Maxon tells her.

America dabs the corner of her mouth with her finger to remove some syrup. "Thank you, my royal husbandness and thank you, my babies!"

She opens her arms and hugs her kids again. Maxon puts the pancakes down, leans forwards and kisses her. Their kids squirm at the sight of their parents kissing but that doesn't stop them whatsoever.

* * *

 **This was short but I can never come up with any birthday or holiday chapters.**

 **Visit the poll on my page! I forgot to mention this earlier but each of the stories on that poll** **will have a sneak peek chapter on here when they do get published.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- A little baby will be joining Maxon for a day at the office...**


	89. Photo 89: Baby Clips

**I was so close to titling this chapter 'Boss Baby'.**

 **A request for a father/daughter moment between Maxon and Eadlyn was given by missblue2807. After I read her request, I realized that a lot of the past chapters have been straight Maxmerica fluff and we need more with the kids.**

* * *

Photo #89: Baby Clips

To Eadlyn, it always felt as if the role of queen was meant to be hers. Even if the laws of inheritance weren't changed, she would have felt the same. Maybe that was just a feeling that every royal offspring had because even if the chances weren't on their side, they would still be in the running for the throne. That leadership quality would and should always be there.

Or maybe it's been instilled in her from a young age so that she'd believe it was innate? This next photo sure seems to prove that.

It shows Eadlyn's father carrying her as a baby in his office. He looks as though he's giving her an office tour and explaining all that's there, which isn't really much since it's all more or less paperwork. Her father, however, looks joyful as he gives baby Eadlyn the show which makes present Eadlyn smile warmly to herself.

Like father like daughter, they say.

-o-

On one of Maxon's few days off from his office-related royal duties, he finds himself walking into his office. What makes this day different from any other, besides the obvious no need to work, he has baby Eadlyn in his arms. In all honesty, Maxon has no idea why he's here let alone why he brought Eadlyn here. It was almost like he subconsciously walked in here.

"Oh..." Maxon mutters, realizing where he is. "Sorry, Eady, let's go somewhere else."

Maxon feels obligation to go somewhere else but he doesn't move. Over the past two-almost-three years of being king, his office has become more or less his second home. His feet are rooted to the ground as Eadlyn looks around mindlessly. Maxon glances at his daughter and sees a glimmer of interest in her eyes and even though it's possibly because babies are interested in almost everything, he tries to ignore that and believe that Eadlyn is interested in his office.

"One day, you'll be in here when you're preparing for the throne," Maxon says, "what do you think Eady?"

Baby Eadlyn looks up at him blankly for about five seconds before her eyes wander around mindlessly again. Maxon blinks, he really should've seen that coming. Eadlyn's a baby and here he is expecting a verbal response.

"I know, you can't contain your fake excitement," Maxon tells her as he props her up again.

Was Eadlyn really fake-excited about being here? Maxon will never know for sure since she didn't respond when he asked her the first time. He'll just say that she was to make himself happy.

"Look at all that paperwork, Eady!" Maxon exclaims excitedly and sarcastically. "Isn't it great?!"

Maxon looks at Eadlyn for a response and she looks like she couldn't care less. Frankly, he shows the same disinterest due to the fact that it's work but it's not completely unbearable. He does enjoy it to a certain extent (when it's completed).

"Aside from all that boringness, look at my stationary," Maxon says more enthusiastically than before.

Maxon places Eadlyn on his desk as he takes a seat in the office chair. He makes her face him as if a serious conversation was about to go down which it was, although it would end up being one-sided.

"I've been king for about three years so speaking from inexperience," Maxon starts, "it's a hard task but you learn and it suddenly becomes easy and possibly enjoyable. You'll never be prepared for the stress though or the load but it's something you have to take on one day at a time. And you won't be alone, even though this office could sometimes be gloomy but nevertheless, I could never imagine _not_ being King because then, I wouldn't have you, Ahren or your mother."

Maxon smiles to himself as he taps Eadlyn's nose. Eadlyn only blinks as a response. It was almost like talking to a wall.

"Hey, Eady, look at all my pens!" Maxon exclaims.

That's sparks a reaction. Maxon takes his pens out of their holder and spreads them out in front of her. Eadlyn smiles as she touches all of them, picking up one pen per hand and then dropping them only to repeat the cycle. Maxon doesn't understand the excitement in doing that but he does find entertainment in watching Eadlyn do so.

Eadlyn turns around and sees small containers of binder clips and paper clips. She reaches over and spills both of them, making Maxon laugh. Eadlyn smiles contently and she messes those around (and will be a complete pain to reorganize). For his own benefit, Maxon attaches the binder clips to Eadlyn's onesie. Eadlyn looks down and fidgets with them, not really fussing over them. Maxon even puts the paper clips in her hair like barrettes and wonders why that was never a fashion trend.

Eadlyn laughs even more as her hands reach up to her head. Maxon kisses her forehead as he takes her hands back. Maybe America will notice, maybe she won't.

Then, Maxon realizes something she will really like. He opens his drawer and takes out an ink pad used for stamping. Maxon opens the ink pad and stamps Eadlyn's hand in it. Eadlyn looks at her blue palm in confusion until Maxon softly stamps it on a spare sheet of paper. Eadlyn looks at her handprint in amazement and continue to make more handprints. Then, she goes to subconsciously put her inky hand on her onesie.

"No, no," Maxon says, taking her wrist back. "Mommy will definitely notice that."

Eadlyn doesn't react much. Maxon opens another drawer and pulls out a wipe that he uses on Eadlyn's hand to remove the ink. He lets go of her wrist and Eadlyn looks around and her eyes pop open at the sight of Maxon's stapler. Curious, she reaches for it.

"No, no!" Maxon exclaims. "That's not for you."

Eadlyn looks back at her father with a quivering lip and tightened eyes. Oh no, he couldn't take a crying a baby so he needed to act fast. Maxon results in pulling out a pack of sticky notes. Eadlyn's face softens and she takes the pad in her hands. As she leafs through the many sheets, she stays hypnotized.

Maxon sits back in his seat relieved. Crisis truly averted.

And to think that this was the future queen of Illéa.

* * *

 **Guys, I don't know if I've mentioned this anywhere before but I have an obsession with stationary. You'd be surprised on how much money I've actually spent on memo notes and notebooks.**

 **Please vote in the poll on my page!**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- "Don't worry, you'll still be able to smile."**


	90. Photo 90: A True Man's Smile

**I have been watching a lot of Cole &Sav vlogs and they are everything goals. This chapter idea came from them. Just a heads up, I'm pretty sure this event was said to have happened in the books so now I'm just writing it.**

 **Also, my apologies for seeming like I've neglected this story and put my other ones first. This story will actually be one of the main attractions in the near future.**

* * *

Photo #90: A True Man's Smile

Her heart goes out to Kaden in this one.

Eadlyn was scared at the time and so were Ahren and Kaden. Her and Ahren were actually petrified but at least they weren't the center of the crisis: Kaden was. They were all children and this would typically be a memory that might be at the very back of the mind, but in theirs, it will forever be engraved in it. The blood, the tears - all of it was too much for Kaden to handle at that age, especially since their parents weren't home. But looking at that smile that shines on the glossy photo, Kaden came out as a trooper.

She hopes the same could happen now because at the end of the moment in the photo came the smile that made it.

-o-

It all started with a shriek. A shriek that gave Aspen and Lucy the energy to drop what they were doing prior and rush over to whatever caused the shriek to happen. They found themselves to be on guard for the Schreave children since Maxon and America are currently handling affairs in New Asia and the nanny was prioritizing her time on baby Osten (also because the other three kids were well-behaved on their own and can be left alone from time to time).

Aspen and Lucy end up meeting in the middle of the hallway, stopping in front of a closed door where the shriek must have originated from. They burst through the door and at first glance, they have no idea what is happening but the sight is incredibly concerning: there's Kaden with a splotchy face and tears rimming his eyes, Eadlyn holding Kaden's mouth open as she handles a wad of tissues in there, and Ahren holding a box of tissues while many scrunched up ones are at his feet, spotted with blood.

The three kids look at them in bewilderment as Lucy and Aspen are speechless.

"What is going on?" Aspen asks, walking slower and closer towards them.

Kaden tries to talk but his mouth is full of wadded tissues. Aspen raises an eyebrow and looks at Lucy to see if she got anything from that. Her shrug means that she got nothing. Kaden removes the soaked tissues from his mouth and drops them to the floor.

"Eadlyn was pulling out my tooth," Kaden says.

Kaden smiles, jutting out his lower jaw. He uses his tongue to show Aspen and Lucy his wiggly tooth and it looked like to could just fall right out.

"I was not pulling it, I was tapping it," Eadlyn corrects. "There's a difference."

"You're still a kid, Eadlyn," Aspen tells her. "You could've told us instead of performing dental surgery on your own."

"My mental age begs to differ."

"I was there to stop the bleeding," Ahren says proudly.

Aspen ruffles Ahren's hair as a form of praise. He pulls the twins to the side as Lucy steps forwards to handle the loose tooth situation. Kaden keeps his mouth open for Lucy to examine and she doesn't even have to be a dentist to know that tooth is hanging onto his gums but a thread.

"It looks like it's going to fall right out," Lucy tells him. "It's literally crooked in your mouth."

The tears are forming in Kaden's eyes and Lucy wonders whether or not she should've said those words, despite the obvious.

"Will it hurt?" Kaden asks, trembling a little.

"Of course not," Lucy reassures.

"Think about the tooth fairy," Aspen motivates. "Think about how valuable that tooth is, especially since it's your first! Those are worth the most."

Eadlyn and Ahren nod in agreement with Aspen's words. Despite them already being old enough to know the truth behind the tooth fairy, it still felt nostalgic for them to play along with the childhood innocence of Kaden, especially now when he needs it most.

Lucy cups Kaden's face before taking some fresh tissues from Ahren. Never in her life did she think she would have to do this. Was this a part of parenting? It definitely was. Why couldn't Aspen have volunteered to do this instead? Her guess, it's her dainty hands.

Lucy slowly and carefully wraps the tissues around the tooth. There are so many layers that she isn't sure she has the tooth in her soft grip. Kaden's cries sound like small chokes at this point which scare Lucy a bit. She takes a breath to calm herself down.

"I'm just going to rip the bandage quickly," Lucy tells him.

Kaden nods, giant tears in his eyes that resemble bombs about to blow. Lucy hopes not to trigger them as she wipes her hands on her maid's uniform before going back to his mouth.

"I thought she was pulling out a tooth," Ahren says to Aspen.

"It's a figure of speech," Aspen replies.

Speaking of the twins, they couldn't stand to see their younger brother in that state after trying to help him in the beginning. In order to cope with their own fear and anxiety, they cling tightly on Aspen's legs similar to leeches. Aspen had to admit that for two skinny kids, they had strong grips.

"Luce, could you hurry?" Aspen asks. "The twins are cutting the blood circulation from my legs."

Aspen didn't even realize that during his thoughts about the twins, Lucy already pulled out the tooth. She takes the tooth out of the tissues and puts it in the palm of her hand. Kaden peers over as everyone else joins to look at the tiny tooth. Who would've thought that such a small object could not only be worth a lot to the tooth fairy but also cause so much commotion? This was almost a sense of relief, a stab through the tension that was once there.

"And there's barely any blood!" Aspen cheers. "Did you feel anything?"

Kaden shakes his head and Aspen gently claps his shoulder. "True men shed blood and don't feel a thing."

Kaden still isn't happy about it. "But my smile will be all ugly with a tooth missing from it."

Aspen sees his point and looks at the twins who are still on him. "Go get your dad's camera."

Eadlyn and Ahren nod as they run out to get the camera. Now that his legs are liberated, he walks over to Lucy who still seems a bit shaken from all that. He puts his arm around her and kisses the side of her head to put her at ease. That was a lot for all of them, especially her and Kaden.

"Here," Ahren says, passing Aspen and Lucy the camera.

Lucy takes it and points it at Kaden's face. After forcing him to smile despite his tears, he does; and that little empty space where his tooth once was shines clear. This was a big step for Kaden today and now it will be remembered forever.

"Your smile has never looked better," Lucy says.

"Now, that's a true man's smile," Aspen compliments.

Now, Kaden smiles genuinely this time, sticking his tongue into the empty space and enjoying it.

* * *

 **I used to pull out my baby teeth and they never really hurt.**

 **Please vote in the poll on my profile!**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- (I actually have no idea what the next chapter will be since I am planning to publish so many new stories. The next lot of chapters will mostly be used as sneak peeks for those but nevertheless, they will be relevant to this story).**


	91. Photo 91: Our Extraction Plan (SP)

**Your girl is back and she's killing two birds with one stone. Not only is this a sneak peek for one of my new stories that is now up and described at the end,** **but it also goes for what a lot of you wanted which is a chapter based on Maxon and his sons.**

* * *

Photo #91: Our Extraction Plan

Eadlyn always knew that her brothers weren't perfect boys. For an obvious reason, they were boys and that on its own says plenty. After growing up with three brothers who were all younger than her (Ahren by seven minutes but the point still stands), Eadlyn can verify that boys were not only their own gender but could sometimes be their own species.

This photo is pure evidence that they were up to no good. The irony is that Eadlyn can't remember if her brothers ever got in trouble for it.

However, she could say this about boys, or about the boys in her family at least. They were loyal to each other, by blood and by the best bond to ever exist - brotherhood or manhood, the terms were interchangable to her. They always had each other's back and for that, they had her back as well as her mother's which she wished was still possible in this case, despite Ahren now overseas...

-o-

"Go long!" Ahren exclaims.

Ahren takes a stance with the football in his hands just above his shoulders. He watches as his younger brothers run down the hallway backwards as they excitedly hold their arms out to catch the ball. Ahren spirals the ball in the air and it soars just below the ceiling. Both Kaden and Osten collectively yell that they got it, and they hold their hands in the air to catch it - but the ball just grazes their fingertips and the two of them, along with the football, collide with a pillar that has a vase on it. Kaden, Osten, the football, and the vase fall to the floor; the vase was the only one to shatter. The pillar teeters for a bit before gaining its foot again.

Ahren runs over and picks up his brothers, making sure none of them touch the broken shards. The three of them stare down at the mess, completely speechless of how this will go in terms of what to do with it.

"Touchdown?" Osten questions.

"I could've caught that," Kaden says. "You distracted me, Osten!"

"I was running beside you and Ahren wasn't throwing a snake at you!"

"Oh my god..." Kaden mutters on the verge of panicking. "We're going to be in trouble."

"Someone take the blame for me!" Osten exclaims.

Osten tries to run away but Ahren grabs him by the back of his shirt's collar. Osten whines a little as he stays in place.

"You're not going anywhere," Ahren says. "We're all the same and we're just as in trouble as each other. I threw it and neither of you caught it."

"Why would I help you when you can't aim?" Osten questions.

Kaden looks at Ahren with the same intriguing question in mind. Ahren sighs to himself.

"Because when you help me, wonderful things happen," Ahren replies. "And besides, I'm helping you because you can't catch."

Ahren claps Kaden and Osten's shoulder. All snide comments aside, that was a good enough answer that gets the three of them to work. Ahren starts by picking up the display. Osten picks up the football and temporarily hides it behind the curtain of a nearby window. Then, the three of them use their feet to sweep up the shards of the broken vase. Unsure of where to temporarily put them until they have access to a broom and dustpan, they split the pieces between putting them behind the display and under the rug.

In the midst of their rushed cleaning, their heads all perk up in sync like a deer caught in headlights all at the sound of a camera clicking.

"We're caught!" Kaden exclaims, actually starting to panic this time.

"Bye!" Osten says.

Osten tries to run off again but this time he gets stopped by the photographer who caught it all, their father. The three boys brush themselves off, trying to look innocent but they know that Maxon knows they're not (and it's not because some pieces of the vase were still in sight and the football has rolled out of its hiding spot).

"Don't worry, boys," Maxon whispers, "this is just so nobody will think that vase got stolen even though I don't know why they would've stolen that one when the nicer one's in the throne room."

The boys are quiet. Maybe this was all a trap for an inevitable confession? Could their father, who just captured a photo of them contaminating a crime scene, really be trusted right now? All signs are currently pointing to no for that last question.

Suddenly, they all turn their heads at the sound of America's singing which meant that she was coming this way. There was no way in hell that they were going to turn their mother's singing into screaming at the sight of a shattered vase. Their heads teeter back and forth between the growing sound and the broken vase. This was an emergency. The boys start panicking and Maxon puts down his camera and stretches a bit before getting down to business.

"I guess I'll have to play my last card - the ultra-distracting ace also known as Our Extraction Plan," Maxon says. "Look, boys, we have about three minutes before you mother comes up here, sees the broken vase, and then goes ballistic so you listen to me and you listen well. Osten, run to your mother and go look cute. Say you saw a litter of baby bunnies in the garden and drag her to it even if she tells you that rabbits don't mate this time of year. Kaden, carefully find a temporary replacement case from another room. Walk, do not run with it. We don't need two vases broken. Ahren, stay with me and we'll properly deal with this broken vase. Am I clear?"

Instead of nodding, the Schreave sons found it more necessary to salute and so they did before going off to do their assigned tasks. Maxon feels a sense of pride when that happened, both as a father and a king. That really means a lot to him as to how his boys view him. It warms his heart up.

"You're helping us?" Ahren questions his father, picking up glass pieces. He felt the need to ask because of the photo and because he and his brothers broke a possibly antique and priceless vase for crying out loud.

"That's what love is: no judgment," Maxon replies calmly. "Also, I didn't fancy this vase anyways."

"This vase wasn't important, right?" Ahren asks just to make sure it had no value. "I mean, it's worth nothing now since it's destroyed. Material things don't matter anyways. People before objects, always."

Maxon smirks. "That's convincing enough for your mother if she ever asks, and if she doesn't, tell her you saw the rabbits as well."

"Noted."

"Also, Ahren, do learn how to throw a football."

Ahren looks up at his father in an offense. "It's not like they caught it and as if _you_ know how to throw one."

Maxon grins as he puts down his vase pieces and glances at the football just below the curtains. He looks back at Ahren who has the same look on his face. Maxon dusts off his hands on his pants.

"Go long," he tells his son.

* * *

 **I loved writing this chapter. I should do more father/son snippets because this chapter was truly enjoyable for me to write.**

 **And now for the sneak peek of my _Avengers_ story:**

 ** _Our Extraction Plan_ \- ** "What would I do without you?" "Probably die." / Clint and Natasha don't have an extraction team simply because they don't need one. With that in mind, what's their plan when they do need a way out? (Clint x Natasha Novella)

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- (I actually have no idea since I have a mix of sneak peeks for stories that I'm not sure when will go up )**


	92. Photo 92: Acne Scars

**This was a sneak peek for a Wattpad work I had but I removed it. So now, this chapter is just a regular chapter for you to enjoy.**

* * *

Photo #92: Acne Scars

For the most part, Eadlyn feels happy about all these photos on the wall. It's like one second of a whole event was captured and now can be remembered forever. Truth be told, she only feels that way about a certain number of photos. The particular photo she's looking at right now, not so much.

The generic concept of the photo is cute: it has her mother holding up her chin and smiling at her. The part that Eadlyn doesn't like about it is that she was fourteen-years-old at the time which was also her mid-puberty period (no pun intended). That was the horrid time in her life where her face was slightly discolored due to all the acne scars. She didn't have a lot but the ones that were there made sure everyone knew about their existence.

It was a bad time and Eadlyn wishes she could tear off that photo, but she doesn't. Now, her makeup is minimalistic and light since her acne scars have thankfully faded away, but back then, she really needed the high-coverage.

-o-

As of right now, Eadlyn does not like her face and it's all puberty's fault. She sits in front of her vanity, staring right at her reflection and sees nothing but her acne and its scars. The only benefit that Eadlyn sees is that her acne could be worse but still, it sucks. She's also happy that it's mostly on the apples of her cheeks but like before, it still sucks.

Tonight, she has to attend a party with her family and eyes will be on her and her face. The royals always have a reputation for being the most beautiful people and tonight was not the night for all of this to show. She did not want to attend because if people saw her like this, it will be spoken about and the stories will never die down.

Her stylist gave her many options to choose from to cover them up. There was foundation, concealer, powder - which was all supposed to be compacted on her face - but they all looked the same and served the same purpose to her. Eadlyn hasn't touched them yet and she kind of doesn't want to, but seeing those scars makes her really want to.

Eadlyn jumps a little in her vanity seat when she hears the door open and someone walks in. For a moment, she thinks it's her stylist who left to get more hairpins, but it's her mother. Eadlyn notices that instead of her mother looking at her, her eyes went straight towards the makeup and she was not pleased.

"I wasn't doing anything," Eadlyn argues.

America eyes the makeup as she heads over. Her eyebrows furrow as she pushes the makeup to the side and sits on the edge of the vanity, right in front of Eadlyn. She looks down at her daughter and now eyes her. Eadlyn shifts uncomfortably in her seat, wishing that her mother would go back to looking at the makeup with that expression instead of her.

"Perhaps you weren't," America responds, "but it's the way of possibly doing it that counts if you want to go on."

"Mom..." Eadlyn whines.

"I had a slight acne issue too growing up and even though I couldn't afford it, let me tell you, Eadlyn, that makeup makes it worse."

"I wouldn't say I have acne," Eadlyn argues. "It's mostly scarring."

"And where did those come from?" America raises an eyebrow.

Eadlyn stares at her mother defeated but she will try her absolute best not to be. "No idea."

America sighs. "Even if you do need makeup, you don't necessarily need a lot. Your scars are beautiful."

"Seriously?" Eadlyn questions. "Is that a real thing or just a mom-comforting thing?"

America laughs a little. "Bit of both."

Eadlyn groans as she slouches in her chair. "Mom, I don't have time for this. They're ugly!"

America shushes Eadlyn by grabbing her face. For a few seconds, Eadlyn struggles but then succumbs to her mother just holding her face since she knew that her mother wasn't going to let go any time soon. America holds Eadlyn's face and tilts it around. Eadlyn would complain about her neck but doesn't bother at this point since that wouldn't change anything. America tilts Eadlyn's chin up and looks right at her face because she refuses to let her daughter call herself ugly.

"Scars are badges of honor for the victors and look, baby," America says with a slight smile, "you're winning puberty. Your face is the beautiful road map of your life and I gave it to you even though it looks nothing like mine."

Eadlyn smirks a little as America let's go of her face.

"Wouldn't it make more sense to say Grandma Amberly gave me my face?" Eadlyn questions.

America hesitates because Eadlyn has a point there. Her firstborn and only daughter looks like the beautiful and late former Queen Amberly which America is proud of since she is happy that despite Eadlyn not looking remotely close to her, she still got her features from another beautiful and meaningful lady in her life.

"Don't ruin the moment..." America says with a small smile as she kisses Eadlyn's forehead.

* * *

 **Short and sweet and that's completely okay.**

 **At this point, because I'm too cheap for foundation and sweat easily, my makeup look barely covers all my acne scars but I think it looks amazing.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- (I honestly still have no idea but I regret nothing. It'll probably be another smeak peek for something else).**


	93. Photo 93: Color, Cut, and Carter (SP)

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY QUEEN, Anj0921!**

 **Again, here is a sneak peek and this one is an entry in _My Failed Love Life_ series which isn't up yet on my Wattpad but is currently being worked on. More info on this story will be at the end, as per usual. I have a planned sneak peek for that when it will go up.**

* * *

Photo #93: Color, Cut, and Carter

Eadlyn never felt a liking or a hating towards jewelry. It was just there for her to accessorize with and she wore them when needed or wanted. She never indulged in them since she never felt a satisfaction that could come from other things like chocolate or actual love (which even to her could be problematic at times).

Looking at this photo, which has her mother holding a clutch and on the right ring finger is a ring that Eadlyn knows she wears as often as she can. It is not just another ring in her mother's collection, it is much more than that. It might not be as comparable to her engagement ring or wedding band but it is certainly up there.

Though materialistic, sometimes it just feels nice to own because they are so much more than just a set of expensive jewels because there is thought behind the chosen pieces. So many things become beautiful when you really look and truly understand what your eyes are seeing.

-o-

Standing in front of Maxon and Carter is a jeweler who has an array of rings on display for the two men, all different in their smallest details that cannot be seen at first with the naked eye. Maxon listens to the words of the jeweler as she explains the descriptions of each ring, nodding his head with every adjective. Carter stands beside his friend, every word going over his head. He's only here to support Maxon since he was planning to get America a ring for whatever occasion. In all honesty, Carter was completely bored and all the sparkles were making him sleepy.

"Can I leave?" Carter asks Maxon like a bored child to his parent.

"No," Maxon replies, "I can't do this without you."

"Sure, you can. It might not be as fun but I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Carter smirks as a hope to get him out of here but Maxon turns back to the jeweler and the ring options, acting as if he never heard Carter in the first place. Carter groans in boredom which, like before, gets ignored.

"Why am I even here?" Carter asks. "If you wanted help on a ring for America, you could've just gotten Marlee. She would actually have some useful input."

"Marlee will blab to America," Maxon replies.

"What makes you think I won't blab to Marlee who will blab to America?" Carter asks, thinking he has Maxon trapped in a loop which he couldn't escape from.

"You won't remember anything once we leave," Maxon reasons.

Carter opens his mouth to object from that accusation but then nods in defeat since Maxon had a point. He wasn't listening to anything this whole time and will most likely forget this whole event happened the moment he leaves the room. In fact, he barely remembers what just happened in terms of the ring they were supposed to be looking for.

"You're so whipped," Carter tells him. "Then, again so am I, both literally and figuratively."

Maxon smirks a little. By now, they could look back at that time and smile, especially since something good came out of it. It just makes everything well worth it in the long-run.

"Love is the only thing that's both metaphorical and physical," Maxon states. "The things we do for it."

Maxon goes back to glancing over the ring selections again and this time, Carter takes an interest and looks as well. The jeweler also cuts in, throwing in descriptions of the rings the men seemed to have a liking towards.

"America is a very simple woman," Maxon mutters.

"Obviously not since she agreed to marry you," Carter jokes.

Maxon glares at him as Carter laughs. Even the jeweler smirks wildly to herself at the unexpected comment. Maxon's glare at his friend persists until Carter clears his throat to get back to ring finding.

"I like this ring," Carter says, pointing at one.

"I'm not buying you a ring," Maxon tells him.

This time, Maxon laughs, and the jeweler does as well. Carter narrows his eyes, slightly offended but nothing too serious. He and Maxon are friends so they often joke like this to one another. Then, when the laughing stops, the seriousness takes its turn to come in. Carter notices Maxon worrying over not being able to pick the perfect ring.

"Don't stress like that or your hair will turn grey before you're thirty," Carter says.

"I think the throne will do that first," Maxon responds cheekily.

"Maybe America's ring could _match_ the throne."

Maxon glances at Carter, unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. Carter says nothing because he wasn't sure how he was saying that statement. He just said it without thinking. Maxon looks at the jeweler who pulls out a ring to show them that sort of follows what Carter was saying, whether he was joking or not.

"This ring here," the jeweler starts, "has round diamond accents beat in the center of 20 karat white and rose gold hearts in this endearing topaz ring."

The two men stare at the ring for longer, intrigued about how it was a pattern of hearts with gems in their centers instead of just the standard band with a gem small in the middle. This was different. And if there was something America was besides being simple, it was different. It was one-of-a-kind.

"Color?" Maxon questions again to the jeweler.

"Rose-gold and white all around," she responds.

"Cut?"

"Princess."

"Clarity?"

"15."

"Carter?"

Carter shakes his head at the sound of his name. All those words that started with C were coming out at once as a tsunami of consonance that almost sucked him right in. Even his own name seemed like it was a part of all that jewelry lingo.

"Yes?" Carter questions.

"That ring sounds perfect," Maxon tells him.

"That sounds complicated," Carter responds.

* * *

 **Again, I love writing Carter and Maxon like a couple of bros. Also, Carter is 100% me here.**

 **And now for the story which is a one-shot for _The Lunar Chronicles_ and an entry in _My Failed Love Life_ series:**

 ** _Color, Cut, and Cress_ \- ** Thorne plans on buying Cress a ring so he brings Cinder with him despite her knowing nothing on jewelry. (Cress x Thorne OS)

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- This one will go out to all you baseball lovers...**


	94. Photo 94: Batter Up!

**This is a well-needed break from sneak peeks.**

 **I was scrolling through my list of ideas for this story and after being to two baseball games in the span of a month, I was excited to write this chapter.**

* * *

Photo #94: Batter Up!

If Eadlyn was to be asked to describe her parents, she would use words like courageous, intelligent, determined, and all those synonyms. An adjective that she would never use is athletic. Her parents were not sporty whatsoever since they had subjectively better things to do with their time.

That wasn't to say her parents were terrible at sports, not at all. Her parents were just _not good_ at sports. There's a complete difference.

Sports are a big deal in Illéa, as they are in almost any country. There was one time when her father was asked to pitch the first ball of the season. Eadlyn heard it was a success and based on this photo of her father in the middle of the baseball diamond, she would be persuaded into believing so. That gets Eadlyn thinking, maybe her parents have some athleticism in their bodies after all and if so, does that mean she inherited any?

-o-

In the cockpit stands Maxon, wearing jeans and shifting his weight from one leg to the next. His arms are crossed over the baseball jersey he's wearing for Illéa's home team. Ahead, he sees the baseball diamond being cleaned up for the upcoming game which is minutes away and when the clock's done ticking, he will be in the center, expected to give the first pitch of the first game of the season.

He feels nervous about this. In the spur of the moment, when this was offered, he said yes. It wasn't until the publicity of the event did Maxon realize that he wasn't up for this. He never really did any type of sports growing up nor was his dad the playing-catch type of father. He can't do this and he should've probably backed out but now hearing the cheering crowds and blasting music, there is no turning back.

"You look pale."

Maxon shakes back into reality when he hears America's voice. He looks at his newlywed wife who has her hair in two braids with a baseball cap on her head. She's wearing a jersey similar to his and skinny jeans with sneakers. In her arms is a variety of concession foods served in the stadium such as cotton candy, nachos, hamburgers, hot dogs, fries, various types of candies and gummies, a soda, and so much more. How she managed to carry all those in her small arms without staining her clothes or spilling anything made him feel grateful to wife her. Maybe she should be the one throwing the first pitch instead of him.

"What?" Maxon asks.

"You look pale," America repeats, placing her food on the bench. She picks up the fries and hands his some. "Eat something."

Maxon passes. America insists for him to eat something and he takes a nacho smothered in cheese ans jalepeño peppers. Then, he takes a seat on the bench beside the food.

"I can't do this," Maxon says. "I can't throw a ball."

America picks at her cotton candy. "Don't worry, Maxon. If this fails, not only will I still love you but there will be another thing you're unable to do."

"That seriously doesn't help."

"It wasn't supposed to. You're throwing a ball, not performing rocket science."

America stands in front of Maxon as he puts his head in his hands. She runs her fingers through his hair as a way to calm him down.

"America," Maxon starts, "this is the first pitch of the season and I'm the king. Don't you know how embarrassing it would be to fail at pitching?"

"I think it'd be hilariously embarrassing," America admits.

Maxon glares at her. America puts some gummy worms into his mouth and he knaws on them while keeping a straight face despite the overpowering sourness.

"Hear me out," America continues. "If you do fail at this first pitch, at least they will all be grateful that you're their king and not an actual player on the team."

America waits for Maxon to agree with her because she did have a point. Maxon just stares at her non-responsively. America takes more food and puts it in his mouth.

"You are lucky I didn't marry you for your motivational speeches," Maxon tells her.

"You are lucky I didn't marry you for your athletics," America responds.

She rests her hands on his shoulders. Maxon looks up and smiles at her. America cups his face, pressing her thumbs on the corner of his smile. Maxon takes her hands into his before standing up. He holds America's waist as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.

"I am lucky I did marry you," Maxon tells her.

"You really are," America responds.

Maxon takes a breath through her laughing as he gives her a quick kiss.

"I'm proud of you," America tells him. "I believe in you and I have no doubt in me that you will ace this." She pokes his chest. "How's that for motivational?"

Maxon taps her nose. "Perfect."

"Good, now, go show me your athleticism." She starts clapping for him. "My husband is throwing the first pitch of the season!"

Maxon grins at her as he's called onto the diamond. America continues cheering and that's when Maxon realizes that he's got this and if possible, he will knock this right out of the park. When he stands in place and has the baseball in his hand, he holds it there for a bit just to get used to how it feels despite him throwing it in a few moments.

Maxon takes a breath as he grips on the ball. He's still scared since so many eyes are watching him not only in the stadium but even at home. The only eyes he cares about right now are America's because she's his motivation, the umpire's because that's who he's throwing the ball to, and his own because he needs to see where the ball has to go.

As the cheers grow, Maxon feels the adrenaline filling in his body. He can really do this. It was a fight or flight situation but he sees it as both. He had to fight through his fear and make the ball fly. Maxon throws the ball and when it soars into the umpire's hand.

Illéa roars into excitement and Maxon sighs out of relief.

* * *

 **Does Illéa even have baseball? I don't know but just go with it.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- When a baby is on the way, it's a good time to start getting crafty.**


	95. Photo 95: Knit One, Purl Two

**I forgot I had this chapter still in the doc manager.**

* * *

Photo #95: Knit One, Purl Two

Whenever Grandma Magda would visit, that's when Eadlyn knew it would be a good day - no, an _amazing_ day. That woman was blessed with the ability to make something as dull and lifeless as yarn be interesting. Seriously. Yarn. The memories brought back by this next photo remind Eadlyn that she did have a fun time with yarn and apparently, it was so much fun that she even _remembers_ the event.

The day revolves around knitting and Eadlyn actually remembers that day even though she was just sitting there next to two of her favorite women in the world. The Polaroid telling the whole story even has a fringe border made of yarn around it which is touching.

-o-

"According to legend - and by legend, I mean myself - we create what we want because what we want doesn't exist," Magda starts as if she's giving some sort of motivational mantra. "It's okay to fail just as long as you tried because we all make mistakes. The danger lies in letting those mistakes make us believe we can't put things right. Make us believe there is no hope. Make us give up."

America casually nods her head in the way that indicates that she zoned out after one sentence. "Wow, Mom, that's really inspirational."

She isn't sure if she sounded sarcastic or not when she said that but if she did, she really didn't intend for it.

Magda smiles anyways. "Thanks, baby. Now, like I've said before - it's knit one, purl two."

America sighs as she returns back to her knitting needles and follows her mother's steps. She alongside Magda were sitting on a couch in the Newsome Library, each with knitting needles in their hands and two projects in progress. The projects in question were baby booties for Shreave Baby #4 which currently resides evidently in America's stomach with America making one and Magda the other (it's going like a live-demo follow along session). Beside them sits Eadlyn who untangles the balls of yarn from the basket on the floor beside her. Then, across from the coffee table were Ahren and Kaden who play baseball with the balls of yarn as the baseballs and some rulers as the bats.

America groans in frustration as she looks at her failed garter piece. "Can't I just start over?"

"No," Magda responds. "Going with Plan B means that Plan A will fail."

"Plan A did fail and there are 25 more letters."

"Just keep going and cover your mistakes with a fringe add-on afterwards."

She keeps quiet about how she'll end up covering the whole bootie with fringe since the whole piece is a mistake, but both women were actually thinking that same thing so it didn't really need to have been said aloud. America mutters to herself something along the lines of how her Plan Z was just to cover her newborn baby's feet with fringe because she can't knit for the life of her.

For the past three children, Magda was always the one who knitted the baby booties and each baby had multiple pairs in every color and styles imaginable. But when America told her she was pregnant again, Magda thought it was finally the time to teach her her daughter how to make them (she blamed the possibility and feeling of contracting arthritis). It was also to prepare her daughter for her future grandchildren but if she were still around to see her great-grandchildren, then Magda would use all the yarn and knit anything and everything for them (which would actually save America from doing it herself).

There's a small knock on the door and Kaden opens it just as a ball of yarn hits his head. Kaden picks it up and goes to throw it back at Ahren as Maxon welcomes himself inside the Newsome Library. He smiles at everyone in the room as he stands behind the couch and kisses the top of America's head. He notices all the knitting gear and is shocked to see America with a pair of knitting needles in her hands.

"I didn't know you were interested in knitting," Maxon says.

"I'm not," America replies.

Maxon looks at America confused and she pulls him closer to her face by the collar of his shirt.

"This probably hurts more than childbirth," she whispers almost inaudibly to him.

"What was that?" Maxon asks.

"Don't ask. Women are confusing."

Maxon stands up straight and backs away from her before leaving the room, closing the door on his way out. America and Magda laugh to themselves.

"Maxon's a good man which means that he'll make good boys who will grow up to be good men," Magda states.

The two women look at two of the wonderful boys Maxon created and see that they have evolved immaturely from playing baseball with the yarn to using it to see how many balls it takes to mummify each other. Both Magda and America are speechless at what seemed to now be an empty statement on Magda's part.

America sighs. "All Maxon had to do was give an X..."

"What?"

America suddenly snickers a little as she runs her fingers through Eadlyn's hair. "You'll understand when you're older."

Eadlyn remains confused as if she was going to ask more so that means it was time to change the topic.

"Eady," Magda interjects, "how do you feel about a third brother along the way?"

Eadlyn shrugs with a small smile on her face. "Fine, I guess. The ones I have right now are irritating but easy to forget if you just ignore them."

America and Magda stare at Eadlyn completely stunned at that response, and Eadlyn just goes back to untangling yarn as if she said nothing. The two older women glance at one another, holding back their roaring laughter as they go back to their knitting. America kind of agrees with her daughter's logic. As America continues to stitch, she notices her mother lurking over her shoulder like a hawk to his prey.

"Do you have to stare at me?" America asks her.

"I always keep my eye on you because you always get lost."

Magda taps her nose and America smirks.

"Thanks for helping me," America tells her.

Magda grins. "I'd like to think of it as saving."

* * *

 **When you make a chapter about knitting pretty enjoyable.**

 **If anyone is interested, I have a new _Wonder Woman_ one-shot titled, _No Man's The Godkiller_ ready to read.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- (another sneak peek but I swear, it's a good one)**


	96. Photo 96: Failed Love Life (Wattpad SP)

**Hello, sneak peek!**

 ** _Side note_ \- I don't know why, but I've been picturing Eadlyn as Emilia Clarke when she had the dark brown hair.**

 ** _Warning_ \- This chapter is a tad topical with some stuff that's going on with society nowadays - which I did not realize until I was at the end and I wrote this chapter back in April - so please read this with a light heart and know that I don't mean any kind of harm nor do I mean to romanticize anything.**

* * *

Photo #96: Failed Love Life

Eadlyn has attended her fair share of balls and galas. As a child, they were basically her playroom but the older she got, the more that society inclined her to fall in love with the possible suitors who also attended because people longed for a royal wedding. Typically, princesses were shipped off to marry princes and even though Eadlyn wasn't, her parents still made her attend parties in hopes to at least find a prince she'd be interested in. They didn't force her at all, they just wanted her to get a scope of who's out there in terms of royalty.

Eadlyn, however, remembers the lack of romance in her love life; some instances she will admit to being at fault for since she had no interest in pursuing love at the time, and her options were distasteful so she wasn't at fault in that way.

It kind of reminds her of her current situation where she is in the midst of finding a husband in her Selection. The coincidences are real. Or maybe this was a sign of how inevitable finding a husband would be for her.

Then, she looks at the photo that sparked all these memories and unintentionally mocks the face she made in the picture: disgusted. It's one of her worst "romantic" encounters in which he wanted something she had no intention of giving. The prince leaned in for the kiss which he never got.

Eadlyn almost feels sick to her stomach the longer she looks at that, but then again, she can't help but laugh at it as she reminisces over the entire event that led to the rejected kiss.

-o-

It was another one of those elite parties: the adults would be chattering and drinking amongst themselves, flattering one another as servers scoped the floor for people whose glasses needed refills; some were dancing along to the orchestra; and the young adolescents stood to the side, finally being able to act like teenagers with each other, in the most testosterone-filled way possible.

"Guys!" Prince Casper exclaims as he runs up to Ahren and the other young adolescent boys of the party. "You will not believe this but an actual _goddess_ just got here."

Instantly, their heads perk up like a radar to try and scope out this goddess. Prince Casper points to the stained glass window by the grand entrance and they see her: porcelain skin with bright brown eyes that glow like the blinding yet subtle highlight on her cheekbones, enunciating them. Her slender frame wears a sleeveless and fitted coral gown that goes to the ground. She holds herself with such poise and grace as she saunters around to say hello to people.

Ahren groans. "Aw, gross, that's just my sister."

"Really?" Prince Casper questions in shock. "That's _Eadlyn_? Are you sure that's _your_ twin? Man, I didn't even recognize her. She glowed up to the heavens."

"What's her secret?" Prince Don asks.

"Puberty?" Ahren guesses, kind of serious, kind of not.

As the princes by his side drool at the sight of his twin, Ahren takes a look at her to see what the whole fuss was about. Sure, Eadlyn looked pretty but to him, she was just Eadlyn and not some next-level deity. The only lady he could ever see himself swooning over was Camille who was standing beside Eadlyn. She was his angel, not Eadlyn.

Meanwhile, from across the ballroom, Camille fawns over Eadlyn, flooding her with compliments galore. Eadlyn smiles as she gives thanks, trying her absolute best not to sound ungrateful because of her awkwardness towards them. She's just saying thanks like a broken record.

"I think all the boys are staring," Camille mutters temptingly to Eadlyn, raising an eyebrow as an indication for Eadlyn to take a quick glance at them.

Eadlyn looks up over Camille's shoulder for a quick second and she saw all that she needed to: all the sons of dukes salivating over her. Eadlyn isn't sure how to handle it, but she feels weird.

"Gross," Eadlyn states.

"Here's a heads up," Camille subtly points towards the group, "that one, Prince Don in the maroon jacket is the son of a duke. He's good from far but far from good."

Eadlyn glances again but this time, for a few seconds longer just to get a good look at him. "He's kind of cute."

Daphne's face shrivels up. "He's borderline perverté."

Eadlyn doesn't know what that word means but even with Daphne's French accent, it has an unfriendly ring to it. Nevertheless, Eadlyn's parents said to play to play nice with the other princes since they will be your future trading partners, allies in case of war, and for one of them, possible spouse. (She isn't fond of that last one as much). Eadlyn looks at her parents from across the ballroom and sees them linking arms with one another as her mother's head rests on her father's shoulder, right in the crook of his neck; all while talking to other people. It was like they were pieces of a puzzle, made to fit together. Never in anyone but her parents did Eadlyn see a husband and wife so absorbed in their love for one another.

Then, she looks at all the immature boys her age and sighs. She never imagined herself ever having her parents' love story - or any love story, especially with any of them. However, they seem to be interested in her which she isn't amused of.

"Oh la la..." Camilla almost sings with an excited tone as she grabs hold of Eadlyn's bicep. "Look who's coming our way."

And here come the princes.

"Do any of them actually have the balls to deal with me?" Eadlyn mutters to Camille jokingly (or seriously but in a joking tone to make it sound like she's joking).

Camille laughs to herself as the princes approach them. She composes herself as she stands beside Ahren, leaving all the other princes to bask in Eadlyn's beauty. Eadlyn could take advantage of all this but she isn't that cruel or vein. Besides, these are potential trading partners and allies in war; there's no need to turn them into tariff-imposers and war enemies.

"Princess Eadlyn," Prince Casper greets charmingly, bowing to her.

Eadlyn smiles welcomingly in return, bowing her head in response.

"You are looking beautiful this evening," he tells her.

Eadlyn acts surprised at the compliment. "As do you." She looks at the other boy: "You as well, Prince Don."

Eadlyn had a walkthrough of the next few moments in her head: Prince Don would thank her, they would share greetings, and then break into some light chatter with maybe a glass of champagne. However, none of that happened. Prince Don immediately leaned forward for the kiss. Eadlyn's face explodes as she holds her hands out over her face, blocking him from her lips. A flash fills her eyes and then laughter from her younger brothers. Eadlyn has no clue what that was about but she doesn't care. _A boy just tried to kiss her. How gross. He is definitely never being her future spouse._

Eadlyn's mind is spinning as her cheeks blush a dark red with embarrassment. The first thing she has learned about boys in terms of 'the birds and the bees', it's that men have difficulty comprehending the difference between being friendly versus being flirty. It could've been worse for him since Eadlyn could've punched him.

Prince Don finally leaves her hand. Now, he's the one looking splotchy as Eadlyn looks horrified. Camille and Ahren's jaws have dropped to the ground as Prince Casper awkwardly looks away and pretends he never saw that.

"I thought you were going to kiss me," Prince Don defends.

Eadlyn scoffs loudly. "No!" She wipes her hand on her dress. "You save those for people you love."

"And that's not me?"

Eadlyn rolls her eyes. "I don't love you. I'm now annoyed by your existence."

* * *

 **When they actually act like teenagers. I love that kind of stuff.**

 **And now for the story:**

 ** _My "Failed" Love Life_ is a collaborative series with myself in which it exists on FanFiction and Wattpad. On FanFiction, it is a series of a few awkward romantic encounters in my life told through the words of my many fictional OTPs and on Wattpad, it is the raw version of how it happened to me. More information about this is on my profile.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- (sneak peek) Someone took a wrong seat...**


	97. Photo 97: Maxon's Seat (SP)

**HAPPY 100,000 WORDS!**

 **Another sneak peek! Be warned that the actual story is not called Maxon's Seat like the chapter is, it's just like that for the sake of the sneak peek. The actual story information will be revealed all at the end.**

* * *

Photo #97: Maxon's Seat

Eadlyn has always heard the saying that 'with every good king is an even better queen' and that was what she was raised on. (Her father says that's how and why he picked to marry her mother). With that in mind, she always wondered why the queen had a smaller throne than the king if the queen was supposedly better. Shouldn't the more superior one have the bigger seat?

Or maybe, the queen had a smaller seat because she tended to be physically smaller than the king. That was the most reasonable and least sexist explanation Eadlyn could think of but still, it was a pretty stupid reason. Eadlyn knows that the bigger seat was always the comfier one since it allowed for more wiggle room and had more cushiony material to provide maximum comfort.

That's why the next photo brings such a smile to Eadlyn's face. It's her mother sitting on her father's throne as if she owns it herself. Her legs are hanging over one arm and her body stretches over the other. She is having the time of her life as the queen on the king's throne. Eadlyn thinks to herself how she should so try that one day...

-o-

Marlee lowers the camera and is looking at her photo subject, America, as she remains in her improper position in Maxon's throne. Marlee doesn't find it improper at all since she finds it hilarious. Even with all the necessary formality that comes with being the queen of any state, they always deserve to have fun (and sometimes, genuinely being fun gets more approval points from the people).

"Are you even allowed to be sitting in Maxon's seat?" Marlee questions.

"Probably not," America replies casually, "but rules were made to be ignored."

Marlee scoffs a little. "Thank god _you're_ the Queen of Illéa."

America laughs to herself. "It's not a big deal. If you don't hurry up and let life know what you want, life will damned soon show you what you'll get."

"And _that's_ why you're queen!"

Marlee bows mockingly and claps for her queen as America over-exaggerates her boasting pride for the respect her people have on her. Both women laugh to themselves as America pats down on the seat of the adjacent and smaller throne for the queen. Marlee hesitantly walks over, stopping in front of the queen's throne until America encourages and eventually pulls Marlee down.

Almost immediately, Marlee's life flashes before her eyes the moment her behind sits down on the throne. Her shoulders suddenly straighten and she turns her body in the seat to face America. America recognizes that face and nods at Marlee for now getting it. Marlee traces the velvet cushions and wooden structure with her fingertips as if that throne was the most delicate object to ever exist. Her jaw opens in pure amazement.

"Wow," Marlee says as if all the air in her lungs has been sucked out. "This feels so powerful."

"Doesn't it?" America questions rhetorically.

"It's like sitting on a cloud," Marlee whispers with a small laugh in her voice.

Both ladies turn their heads at the sound of someone entering. They see a confused Maxon take a few steps in, trying to understand what he's seeing. America and Marlee play this off as completely normal. Then, Maxon smiles and takes a bow for them.

"My Queens," Maxon says honorably. "I know you didn't ask for my service but I feel obliged to wait on you both hand and foot - or shall I say, manicure and pedicure."

America and Marlee laugh in admiration of all this as Maxon cracks a smile.

"Well, most loyal subject," America starts, making her voice sound more like it's reciting a prophecy. "We could use some strawberry tarts."

"Right away, Your Highnesses!"

Maxon turns on his heel and runs out to fetch their order. America and Marlee laugh to themselves again as they watch Maxon go.

"And some rosé!" Marlee quickly adds.

"Only the freshest for you, my queens!" Maxon yells back.

America and Marlee sit back and relax on their thrones, relaxed and content that their unexpected orders will be fulfilled. The two girls look at each and high-five at their successful five-minute rule with the two of them at the throne.

"We should've done this more often," America jokes.

"Correction," Marlee states, "we _should_ do this more often."

America nods her head, impressed with that perspective. "Welcome to Illéan royalty, Marlee Woodwork."

"Why thank you, America Schreave."

"Let us kick Maxon out of his throne," America suggests. "We shall stage a coup d'état."

Marlee slowly nods her head. "I don't know what that means but it sounds cool."

Maxon slowly shuffles in after having heard all that. America and Marlee watch him bring their strawberry tarts and rosé, knowing that he heard all that. The two girls sip their drinks, only keeping their eyes on Maxon because he's staring at them with a devious grin on his face. Marlee lowers her glass and pops her lips a little.

"I bet that he poisoned this," Marlee jokes based on Maxon's expression.

"How nice," America states unamused as she bites into a tart. "I bet he tampered with this as well."

"In my defense," Maxon starts, "if you plan to stage a coup, I'd have to retaliate."

America nods. "He has a point."

Marlee nods as well. "That's why he's king."

"Exactly," Maxon says, bowing to them again.

* * *

 **What I learned in this chapter is that I will have to find me a Maxon and a Marlee for my life.**

 **Check out my new story which is an entry in _My "Failed" Love Life_ :**

 ** _Rory's Seat_ \- ** Pre-teen Amelia Pond sits in the wrong seat one day in class and hears that a certain boy has a crush on her (Amy x Rory OS)

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- Sometimes, the kids don't like getting down and dirty...**


	98. Photo 98: How (Not) To Garden

**Believe it or not, this chapter is about gardening and I personally am not a big fan of doing so. This chapter idea did not come from experience even though I was just gardening about two weeks ago (that I wrote this, presently, it's like a month later); it came from church a very long time ago when my pastor said the word "seed".**

* * *

Photo #98: How (Not) to Garden

Eadlyn knows that she is a person who cannot be one with nature. She isn't the kind of girl who could get down and dirty with literal dirt. She liked being clean and looking at plants. Nature is beautiful in her eyes and from a good distance. Her mother, however, has an eye for plants and their aesthetic. That just added to another quality the mother and daughter do not have in common (it was a surprise America gave birth to her since they almost share nothing).

Despite having royal gardeners, her mother liked getting down in the dirt herself. This time, with the royal gardens, she has the opportunity to have an endless landscape with whatever plants she wants from the tallest trees to the smallest shrubs. Eadlyn remembers her mother calling it "bonding" time but based on this photo of Eadlyn wishing she would dig herself a grave instead of a hold for some plants, she remembers it as "burying" time.

-o-

It was a beautiful sunny day in Illéa after a series of rainstorms the day before. Now, there wasn't a cloud in the sky which made America extremely happy since she could finally play around in the gardens and plant whatever she wanted. And because she has four kids, she has eight extra helping hands to make her landscaping dreams come true. Her kids really had no interest in getting into their jeans to garden, a part of them just wanted to be outside in the sun after being stuck indoors due to rain, and the other parts were forced by their mother to be out here.

America stabs her shovel on the ground, prepping one of her booted feet on the metal part as she looks at her four lined-up children from underneath her sun hat.

"Now, my babies, we will till the soil," America instructs.

"What?" Eadlyn asks confused.

Echoed by Ahren: "Double what?"

Followed by Kaden: "Triple what?"

Concluded by Osten: "Quadruple what?"

America blinks once as she looks at her children. She knew that if they were confused on what tilling soil was, then they would be out here for a while. Lucky for them, the sun was up high and not supposed to go down for a long time. Also, she only took ten minutes to explain the process of tilling the soil (mostly because the kids just nodded their kids without really thinking to themselves on if they understood it or not). Then, when they were left to do it on their own, they just held their tools in confusion.

Osten starts stabbing his shovel into the soil, digging out small piles of whatever he can and randomly tossing them to the side. Kaden stands to the side, getting hit with dirt whenever they were unintentionally thrown in his direction.

"Are you sure that's how you do it?" Kaden questions.

"I think so," Osten replies, continuing to till the soil the way he's been doing it.

"That's not 100%."

Osten's response is to shovel more soil on Kaden who only starts to shovel dirt back on Osten. The two boys suddenly engage in a dirt war which has to be stopped by America jumping in the middle of their shootout, demanding that it ends in a ceasefire. America, now covered in dirt, is only happy that they weren't using the shovels to fight each other. That case wouldn't end well for anyone.

Eadlyn puts a hand above her eyes to block the sun to see what the noise coming from her younger brothers was. She sighs disgracefully when she sees them both covered in dirt and it's only been five minutes since they started here.

"This is so much work..." Eadlyn mutters as she flips over the old dirt into the fresh one.

Eadlyn grunts loudly and stands up straight, feeling something behind her. She turns around and sees her mother right behind her. Eadlyn jumps a little and her heart rate spikes up dramatically. She could've sworn that her mother was dealing her Kaden and Osten.

"And you're doing it wrong," America tells her. "A lack of motivation doesn't always equal failure nor is it a permanent weakness so get going, Eady!"

America walks off. Eadlyn watches her go and makes sure that her mother is at a far distance before she rolls her eyes. She didn't need to be yelled at.

Across the garden, Ahren peers over Kaden's shoulder and sees his younger brother crouched over a hole he dug in the dirt. When Ahren looks into the hole, wondering why Kaden seems so invested in it, his eyes almost bulge out of his head.

"What's going on in there?!" Ahren exclaims, pointing at it with his shovel.

"I don't know but it's your problem now," Kaden replies instantly, getting up and running away.

Ahren looks to see where his brother went and he seemed to have vanished somewhere in the bushes, leaving Ahren with what he saw in the hole. Ahren takes a quick peek in the hole and whistles casually as he rushes to bury it in. Ahren turns on his heel and skedaddles away. Out of sight does not mean out of mind.

He sees Eadlyn standing still as she looks at something down in the dirt. Ahren walks over to see what's up with her (but if he sees that she's looking at whatever he saw in the hole earlier, he's turning and sneaking back inside). He takes a little peek over her shoulder and shockingly sees something worse than what he saw in that hole, he sees a decapitated flower - one of their mother's _favorite_ flowers. And judging by Eadlyn's face, he can tell that she was the one who destroyed it.

"Tell mom you messed up," Ahren suggests.

Eadlyn shakes her head as she looks around to make sure her mother isn't nearby. "I can't tell her that. I have too much pride."

Ahren glares at her. Eadlyn bites down on her lip before handing Ahren her shovel. She trudges over to her mom which felt like the longest couple of steps in her whole life.

"Hey, Mom..." Eadlyn says casually. "I was tilling soil like you wanted me to and accidentally chopped off the flower from its stem."

"Which flowers?" America asks.

"I don't know what type they were but they were your favorite."

Eadlyn expects her mother to explode like a bomb. Even her brothers thought the same since they already took cover behind some shrubs. But to all of their surprises, America just smiles calmly and collectively.

"That's okay," America says as if she was holding back her fire.

"Really?" Eadlyn questions in doubt that her mother's reaction was genuine. "I thought you would've lashed out."

"I really want to but kindness is more effective."

America goes back to the plants she was working on. Eadlyn stands there confused for a few seconds before she realizes that she's in the clear, and then she bolts away. She searches for her brothers and ends up getting yanked into the shrubs where she sees the rest of her brothers. Her eyes immediately turn to Osten who is crying.

"What happened to him?" Eadlyn asks.

"He befriended a toad he found in the garden and it hopped away," Kaden says.

Eadlyn pats the top of Osten's head, thinking about how odd that is but she just killed a flower so who was she to judge?

"I haven't seen him this upset since they canceled his favorite cartoon," Eadlyn says.

"Don't remind me of that too!" Osten yells at her.

Eadlyn opens her mouth to apologize but they all hear their mother calling for them. In sync, the pop out from the shrubs, facing their mother in a military lineup. It wasn't planned, they were just in that formation. America doesn't put that much thought into how her kids are standing. She just beams happily at them.

"Isn't this fun, kids?" America asks them.

"No," Eadlyn responds.

Echoed by Ahren: "Double no."

Followed by Kaden: "Triple no."

Concluded by Osten: "Quadruple no."

* * *

 **When I was forced to garden, I was acting like all the kids combined.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- (last sneak peek of the summer) A little message written on the window says lots.**


	99. Photo 99: I Love (SP)

**The last sneak peek for this summer. You all know the drill by now.**

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Photo #99: I Love

Eadlyn thinks that this next photo was one of my mistaken shots, like the photo that was taken on accident and had to be thrown away. In this one, she can't even tell who's in it because the person is dark since the camera is focusing on the overly-bright window. But, the closer she looks, she sees that the photo was supposed to be focused on the window because that's the main attraction.

Eadlyn has to squint her eyes to get a better look at the window in the picture. It just rained and so the window is all foggy while covered in raindrops. That's when Eadlyn notices that the window has writing on it. It's a sentence with two different penmanships on it. They look as if they have been combined to make one sentence, a sentence that really makes Eadlyn smile.

-o-

The rain continues to pour outside and Osten looks through longingly. As the bad weather continues to worsen, Osten finds himself sitting at that same spot on the window that slowly fogs up as the raindrops land and drizzle down it. With a half-eaten bowl of orange, crunchy, and dusty cheese snacks on his lap, Osten finds himself confined to the dreaded and boring indoors.

He lifts his face from the window and it's immediately wet. As he dries it with his sleeve, he looks out the window where his face was pressed against and it's completely transparent. He can see the gloomy outdoors which isn't that much of an improvement but it's something. Osten looks at another foggy part of the window and taps it. It's a clear fingerprint. When he draws a line, it's a visible line.

"Wow..." An amazed Osten mutters excitedly.

He draws more lines that turn into pictures and words. He stretches over and eventually stands up to get more of the window. This was rainy day entertainment at its finest. He could sketch or print anything. The sky - or in this case, the window's the limit. This would definitely keep him occupied for a while, hopefully until the rain stopped so that he could go run outside and jump in some puddles.

And so he did as much as he could...

"You were drawing on the window for twenty minutes," Maxon says.

Osten snaps out of his inner artist mode (which he didn't know he inherited from his mother until now). He looks at his mural of random doodles on the window and all he can say is that it's abstract at its finest. Then, he sees his dad lift an eyebrow and remembers that he asked a question.

"Why were you timing me for twenty minutes?" Osten asks in return.

Maxon opens his mouth to respond but closes it once he can't think of a response. Osten turns back to the window and continues to doodle on it. Maxon sighs as he picks up Osten's bowl of snacks to set down on a nearby table before wrapping his hands around Osten's waist and pulling back the ottoman he was sitting on.

"Hey!" Osten exclaims.

"The rain stopped, go play outside," Maxon tells him.

"But I was having fun..." Osten whines, slumping his arms against his sides.

"You're staining the windows and the maids will get mad. Besides, the puddles are like oceans."

Osten jumps off of the ottoman. "Yay!"

He starts to wipe his wet and cheesy hands on his clothes before Maxon grabs his hands. Maxon pulls out several tissues and begins wiping his dirty fingers on them.

"Your mother _and_ the maids will get mad if you dirty your clothes," Maxon tells him.

"But I'm allowed to go outside and get all wet?" Osten questions.

Again, Maxon is left speechless with another one of Osten's witty contradictions to his parenting attempts. He thought that after three kids, the fourth one would be a breeze but (and his age was possibly a factor even though he isn't _that_ old) this one was just tiring him. Maxon just sighs again before just letting him run out. He figures that America could deal with him.

Maxon grunts as he gets up (maybe it is his age) and grabs fresh tissues to wipe away at the window. Once he discards those as well as the ones he used on Osten's hands, he looks at the sections of the windows that are still fogged up and he can't help but wonder what about this fascinated Osten so much that it nearly hypnotized him. Maxon brings a finger to the window and starts sketching out swirls to the areas that Osten couldn't reach and suddenly, not only is he drawing but he is drawn into this madness.

"Hypocrite."

Maxon jumps a little and he turns around to see America lean against the doorway. She laughs a little as she makes her way over, gaining pleasure from his petrified face. Maxon smiles nervously at her as he subtly wipes his hand on his pants (which she can't help but notice).

"Like father, like son," is all America can say.

"You can't blame me," Maxon defends. "That kid of ours was onto something. This is so much more fun than I thought."

With disbelief written in her eyes, America takes a shot at performing window art at the space that's remaining. Once Maxon sees the excited childlike smile on her face, he joins back in and now they're both doodling on the windows.

"Like mother, like son," America comments.

"Like husband, like wife," Maxon adds.

"I'd like to say that we have the type of relationship where we finish each other's - "

"Sentences?"

America gives him a stern face. "Don't interrupt me."

Maxon laughs at her seriousness which breaks America's fake icy act. He wraps his arms around her, giving her many kisses on the side of her head as they look at their window art and see that they both wrote words on it. America wrote her name and isn't sure why Maxon didn't if he was looking at her while she was drawing the whole time.

"You wrote a fragment," America says, pointing right at it.

Maxon moves her pointing finger right to the middle of where their writings separate, putting her focus in the middle instead.

"Look, America," Maxon whispers to her as he holds her shoulders and leans close into her ear. "Our windows are connected."

It takes America a second to understand what he means. Then, she reads what they wrote together like a book from left to right, starting with Maxon's window and ending with hers. She reads it a few time before breaking down in sweetness. As one cohesive message, it was the absolute cutest act of love she has seen from him in a while and it said:

 _'I Love America Schreave'_

* * *

 **Yes, that window message thing happened to me and it was the most romantic experience of my life. I bet my future wedding won't even top that.**

 **And now for my _Spider-Man_ story and another entry in _My "Failed" Love Life_ series:**

 ** _I Love Gwen Stacy_ \- ** The first time Peter told Gwen he loved her was in elementary school and all it took was a little rain. (Peter x Gwen OS)

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- it's been two years...**


	100. Photo 100: Two Years

**Lots of celebrations up ahead...**

 **(I MISSED IT BUT) HAPPY TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO THIS STORY even though I'm writing this chapter in the end of June/start of July for proactive reasons.**

 **And HAPPY 100 CHAPTERS!**

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Photo #100: Two Years

 _'(More Than A) Happy Anniversary_ ' is what's written on the bottom of the Polaroid in a dark blue permanent marker. This photo is so simple yet so ambiguous which makes Eadlyn love it more than she already does. In it, she sees her mother smiling gleefully with her eyes happily closed. She's holding up two fingers like a peace sign with a slightly tilted hand.

Eadlyn tilts her head a little as she thinks, aligning her vision with her mother's hand gesture in the photo. It's the fact that she's holding up two fingers that get the gears in Eadlyn's head turning. Why two? It could simply be for peace as it was originally intended for but Eadlyn doubts that. The caption written underneath has Eadlyn guessing that it's her parents' second wedding anniversary. It's the most reasonable explanation but Eadlyn still isn't completely convinced.

She knows there's a bigger meaning behind those fingers...

-o-

One week. One week of uncertainty. One week of mystery. One week without answers.

America is late. Her period is a week late. After one day, she figured that it was nothing. She thought the same for two days, and then three days. By the fourth, she pretended that she just got her period earlier in the month and just forgot. By the fifth, she was secretly paranoid. By the sixth, she planned to take matters into her own hands to calm her nerves. And on the morning of the seventh, she currently sits on the cold tile floor of her ensuite with her knees up to her chest and a loading pregnancy test in her hands.

Now, she will get the results that she has been waiting for: is she or is she not pregnant?

America has always dreamt of being a mother and having that big family with the man of her dreams. And she was more than lucky to have Maxon who she knows will be the greatest father just like her own was. With that in her mind, why was she feeling so scared? She wants this. She _really_ wants this. Maybe it's because it was going to be her first baby. _Her first baby._ She still can't believe that could be her reality sooner than she expected it to be.

To be sure of what the future holds, America finally takes a look at the pregnancy test which should have the results by now. And behold, right before her eyes, she sees it: two lines.

She's pregnant.

America's heart skips one beat. Then, two beats. And then, three beats. When she sees those two lines on the positive pregnancy test in her hands, she's surprised her heart didn't just completely stop. She can't wait to tell Maxon and find nothing but love in his eyes. America quickly blinks out tears of joy and when she looks down to check again, her shaking hands are still holding that positive pregnancy test.

"Oh my god..." America says softly, shaking to avoid exploding joyfully and hysterically.

America stands up, making her way to the mirror and placing the pregnancy test down on the counter. She looks at her reflection and sees that the fear that was once on her face has been replaced with pure ecstasy. She even turns to her side profile, rubbing a hand over her flat stomach, imagining the baby bump that will one day be there.

"Maxon..." America mutters when she realizes that she has to tell him.

America can't wait to tell him the news because she knows how happy and excited he will be. But for now, she wants to keep it a secret, she decides as she lowers her shirt back down and flattens it. A healthy relationship of any kind doesn't require telling someone every detail about yourself but America just needs the perfect time to tell him.

"America?" She hears Maxon ask from the other side of the door alongside some soft knocking.

And now wasn't the perfect time.

America quickly grabs the test and shoves it down her pants, just at the faster of her bottoms as Maxon slowly walks in. He peeks his head in and smirks at her before bursting in all at once and taking a photo of her. America shrieks a little as Maxon laughs and wraps her in his arms, littering her with flutters of kisses before she breaks out of his grasp.

"What you're doing is breaking and entering," America says even though he knocked and asked for her presence.

"I actually think I'm being courteous," Maxon replies.

America raises an eyebrow at him. "How so?"

"You didn't have to answer the door yourself."

America nods to the side a little. "Point for you, then, but what if you barged in here and took a photo of me naked?"

"Then, I'd keep that photo in my personal collection hidden deep in my drawers."

"Ew, you creep."

"Hey," Maxon says in defense, "you married this creep."

Maxon points to himself and that's when it hits America: today is their second anniversary. She completely forgot due to her absent-period-paranoia but all she has to do now is play along as if she never forgot to not only look not suspicious, but he the amazing wife she already is.

"Happy anniversary!" America exclaims, dancing on her toes a little.

"I love you so much," Maxon tells her.

Maxon swiftly pulls her in his arms and the world suddenly blurs for America. She can smell his charming scent on his shirt and it instantly calms her down even though her new form of excitement is now so deep in her bones that it will never disappear. This man is the father of her unborn child and she couldn't have it any better. He slides his hand under her shirt with a goofy smile on his face as he gently brushes his fingers on her lower back. America bends her arms back, sliding his hands upwards to stay above her equator so they don't find the positive pregnancy test. Lucky for her, Maxon is to entrapped in her that he doesn't even notice her moving his hands.

Maxon parts from her, still smiling so radiantly that America can feel it on her own lips.

"I'm starving," Maxon tells her.

"For me or for food?" America questions with a grin on her face as she rugs on the collar of his shirt.

"Food, yes. You, always."

Maxon winks at her and America jokingly pushes his face to the side.

"I'll meet you out there," America tells him. "Just let me finish up in here."

Maxon nods, giving her a quick kiss before walking out of the ensuite, closing the door behind him. Once the door clicks shut, America turns around and pulls out the pregnancy test she hid. Her eyes can't move from the two lines since she still feels like she's dreaming. She has a life growing in her, how else was she supposed to react?

America's head perks up at the sound of approaching footsteps that move so soft and so slow that she knows what's coming. At the moment the door flies open again, America throws one hand behind her back, gripping the pregnancy test in it. With her other hand, she holds up two fingers. Lastly, she puts a cheerful smile on her face as Maxon's camera snaps the picture.

* * *

 **The two fingers in the photo actually have so many meanings that I just have to applaud myself for thinking of: One, this breaks the fourth wall but it is technically the two year anniversary of this story; Two, it is Maxon and America's second anniversary; Three, technically America would've found out she was pregnant by then so the two represents the two lines on a positive pregnancy test; Four, she ends up being pregnant with twins.**

 **Yes, I am that clever. Forgive my cockiness but I deserve it.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- It's someone's birthday!**


	101. Photo 101: Birthday Business

**Happy Birthday to Maxon Schreave and HAPPY 400 REVIEWS!**

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Photo #101: Birthday Business

There is never really a day off when you're a royal. The media might portray the lifestyle as bougie and glamorous and for a fraction of it, it actually is. But behind the cameras, it's strictly business that is tougher and much more brutal than many are led to believe. They're in charge of an entire country and something always happened everyday. Laws have to be passed or emboldened; allied countries need to have their act together; and so much more.

Eadlyn's opinion, as one in line for the throne, might be considered as biased but she believes that being a royal is one of the hardest tasks to have.

But with that in mind, every once in a while a little surprise could be thrown into business.

-o-

On a fine early morning in the palace, Maxon walks down the hallways as he finishes buttoning his sleeve. The smile on his face is bigger than usual and it doesn't falter when Brice joins him, looking as sharp as ever in her pantsuit and pointed heels. She glances at Maxon and recognizes that gleeful expression on his face, hiding her own.

"Today is a special day for you, your Highness," Brice says to him.

"Quit it with the formality, Lady Brice Mannor," Maxon replies, using her title on purpose. "But yes, it sure is a special day."

He looks at Brice expectantly, waiting for her to say those two magic words but when her eyes meet his, all he sees is a deadpanned expression on her face. Brice blinks up at him, with a smile appearing on her face as they both enter his office. Maybe now, she'll say what he wants her to. It's only a matter of time.

"You sure have a lot of paperwork ahead of you," Brice says as she swings open the door for him.

Maxon's expression drops. He wasn't expecting to hear those words from her first. He was expecting something more topical, more exciting.

"Wait, what?" Maxon questions, believing that he heard her wrong just to boost his spirits.

Brice heads over to Maxon's desk and pulls out his chair which is just behind a giant stack of paperwork that's on his desk. Maxon heads over, trying to hide the part of him that wants to cry. Brice taps the head of the chair with a big smile on her face, urging Maxon to take a seat and all he wants to do is glare at her. He eventually sits down and sighs as Brice makes her way around to the front of his desk. Her arms are crossed against her chest as she looks at him.

"Are you okay, your Majesty?" Brice asks. Her face barely shows concern but Maxon appreciates her asking.

"Are you going to help?" Maxon asks, gesturing to all the paperwork.

"No, but I'm going to ask if you're okay."

Maxon ignores her as he sits back in his chair, slouching his shoulders as he swivels his chair from side-to-side, staring right at that paperwork. He hears Brice's heels click as she takes a seat in the chair in front of him and crosses one leg over the other. Maxon flickers his eyes upwards to look at her.

"It's good to be busy," Brice tells him optimistically. "At least it means you're good at something."

Maxon's expression is deadpanned. "Lucky me."

"You know who said that?"

"No."

"Neither do I."

Maxon glares at her before looking back at his paperwork. He can't believe that his birthday just had to be the one day he has more work than usual. Maybe he could tell Brice he should put it on hold for tomorrow but she'll probably say it's all urgent. (And to think that she would say that rather than a long overdue birthday wish). When he glances back up at Brice, she sees her staring right at him with the corner of her mouth with half a grin.

"Can you stop staring at me?" Maxon asks her.

"Why?" Brice wonders as she leans forwards to get a better look at him. "Is it freaking you out?"

"Yes."

"Then, no." Brice smiles as she continues to stare at him. "If you tell me not to do something, I'll do it twice and take some pictures for you."

"I hate that my kids are like that."

Brice pulls out his camera and holds it up.

"You had that the whole time?!" Maxon exclaims, covering his face even though Brice didn't take a photo yet.

"Yes," she responds.

"Well, you could go excuse yourself, my Lady," Maxon orders. "I'll talk to you when I forget how annoying you are."

Brice snickers. "Only if you insist, my King."

Brice stands up to leave, flattening her pencil skirt before making her way out. She opens the door but turns back around, leaning against the doorframe as she watches Maxon go through his paperwork. She observes how Maxon opens the first envelope and his jaw drops when the card inside explodes with glitter.

Maxon drops the card and spreads out all the other papers on his desk and that's when all the colorful envelopes are revealed, hiding under blank pieces of paper just to look official. A small laugh escapes Maxon's laugh as he looks at all of them, seeing all the birthday cards that were addressed to him from his family, the castle staff, everyone. There was even one from Brice somewhere in the pile.

This wasn't paperwork. It was far from it and so much better.

A small exasperated laugh escapes Maxon's mouth as he feels his insides fluttering with excitement. He looks up at Brice and she snaps a photo of him and his birthday surprise. She laughs a little to herself for keeping this from him and seeing the pleasant result.

"These are all birthday cards," Maxon states in disbelief.

"You better get on that paperwork," Brice says smirking. "Happy birthday, Maxon."

"I love and hate you in equal parts."

"As long as that's how we're cutting the cake."

Maxon looms up at her like a hopeful child. "There's cake?"

"Of course there's cake. But you actually have some paperwork to do first."

"Don't you want to do it for me?" Maxon pouts a little. "It's my birthday, dear half-sister."

"I would, darling half-brother, but it's covered in glitter from that card you opened."

* * *

 **I should really write more Maxon and Brice centered one-shots.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- (no clue lol)**


	102. Photo 102: One Lump or Two?

**So, I did this thing called starting university and that is one of the reasons why I haven't been here in like three months and why I won't be updating this story as much from now on. I'll explain as much as I can at the end.**

* * *

Photo #102: One Lump or Two?

Thank god that Eadlyn was so good at hiding as a child because she did not want to be in that situation at all.

Since she and Josie were the only female children in the palace, nature (or in this case, their parents), would often send the two of them off to play with one another. Eadlyn and Josie didn't butt heads, per se, but they weren't exactly braiding each other's hair. To put it simply, whenever Eadlyn had even the slightest hunch that her mother was looking for her to make her play with Josie, she went into hiding.

That was when Josie would play with either her parents or have her brother forced into keeping her company. This photo just happened to be an example of one of those times where her father and Mr. Woodwork were Josie's guests for her weekly (iced) tea party.

Eadlyn looks at the inside of their little teacups and sees the liquid inside shaped like a spiral. It's kind of symbolic the more she thinks about it. That's the thing about a spiral: if you follow it inward, it never ends. It just goes on and on, tightening and tightening infinitely. Just like her father and Mr. Woodwork the longer they sit down at Josie's tea party.

-o-

Today's guests in attendance for Princess Josie's tea party were, of course, the host Princess Josie, Woodwork her stuffed elephant called Sir Trunks-A-Lot, her stuffed cheetah called Sir Spots-A-Lot, Mr. Carter Woodwork, and King Maxon Schreave. The dress code for today was a sparkly feather boa, a sparkly tiara, and, as optional, a puffy princess gown. (Carter and Maxon did not do the last clothing item). They were all seated on a small table that was decorated with a silk tablecloth and all the porcelain tea dishes with matching napkins.

Carter and Maxon are sandwiched in-between Sir Trunks-A-Lot and Sir Spots-A-Lot with Princess Josie. They each have their own teacups and saucers. There's a teapot in the middle which Josie uses to fill each of their teacups, even for the stuffed animals. There are bowls of sugar cubes and cookies; a small pitcher of milk; and a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (with no crust).

The real tea about their tea is that it's actually diluted iced tea. It tasted more like slightly flavored water.

"One lump or two?" Princess Josie asks Maxon since she already knows that her father likes one sugar cube.

Maxon has made decisions for the country easier than this. His only two options are drinking bland and lukewarm iced tea, slightly sweetened cold and bland iced tea or drinking sugar water. He picks the second one because at least it would be refreshing and kind-of flavoured.

Once Josie puts his one lump in Maxon's tea, she sits back down in her own seat and starts talking to her stuffed animals. Carter looks at Maxon and holds up his own tiny teacup to which Maxon clinks his own cup against before they both take small sips.

"It could've been worse," Maxon mutters. At least here, he was being nourished and actually feeling relaxed.

"How could I neglect something so close to my heart?" Carter questions rhetorically as he points at Princess Josie looking as happy as ever in her puffy princess gown, a sparkly tiara, sparkly feather boa, and hosting her own tea party. This is her moment to shine and they are living for it.

"No, I completely understand," Maxon tells him."Sometimes, there are moments when you think you have no choice but it's the best choice." He pauses. "Was this the best choice?"

Carter bites into a mini sandwich and then sips his diluted iced tea. "I'm bonding with my daughter and one of my friends while eating sandwiches, having a refreshing drink, and looking fabulous. This was definitely the best choice."

Maxon nods in agreement as they clink their teacups again. He does agree: he looks fabulous.

"I will admit that this feather boa is warming up to me," Maxon says.

"I think mine is choking me," Carter says, shrugging it off.

"Dad, do you want more tea?" Princess Josie asks with a toothy smile.

"Of course," Carter replies even though his teacup is still half-full.

As Josie fills it up, she looks at Maxon to ask if he would like some as well. Maxon nods as Josie starts refilling his teacup as well. She then gives them their sugar cubes before going back to her stuffed animals.

"Are they actually drinking the iced tea?" Maxon whispers to Carter.

Carter looks over at both Sir Trunks-A-Lot and Sir Spots-A-Lot alternatively, seeing their Josie is refilling both of their teacups but unsure where the tea is going, to begin with. None of the animals looked soaked nor were there any damp patches on the tablecloth or the carpeted floor nor were there any used napkins in sight. Where was the tea going? That was something the two men didn't see coming. Asking Josie isn't an option because she would respond with _"they're drinking it."_ And she wasn't drinking or dumping it anywhere.

"Dad, can you pass Sir Trunks-A-Lot a sandwich?" Josie asks.

"Sure," Carter replies.

He picks up the small plate of sandwiches and hovers it above the stuffed elephant. He puts a sandwich down in front of the elephant and just stares at it. He and Maxon figure that if the tea mysteriously disappears with no trace, then this sandwich is bound to go somewhere and they want to see where and find out how. That will also answer the question of where their tea is going.

"If nothing happens to that, we are so coming back to more of these tea parties," Maxon whispers to him.

"Agreed," Carter responds. "Don't lose focus on the sandwich." He clears his throat and looks at his Josie. "Josie, Maxon and I would love to come to your next tea party!"

"Really?!" Josie exclaims as she excitedly jumps out of her seat.

"Yes!"

Josie starts squealing out of pure joy which makes Carter warm-up, feeling like the proudest father to ever exist because there is nothing more pleasing to a dad than making their children the happiest they could be. Sure, the conspiracy theory on where the tea is going is an incentive to get him and Maxon to go, but he would've come anyways for the sake of bonding with his daughter.

"Where did the sandwich go?!" Maxon exclaims, pointing at the now-empty plate with a few crumbs on it. Meanwhile, Sir Trunks-A-Lot has not moved one bit.

"You were supposed to be watching it!" Carter yells back.

"I just blinked and it was gone!"

"More tea?" Josie offers, being completely oblivious as to why the men were losing their minds.

Maxon holds his teacup up as Josie refills it.

"This will calm my nerves…" Maxon mutters.

"We should add cameras next time," Carter suggests.

"Agreed…I don't trust that elephant, by the way." Maxon abruptly points at it.

"Neither do I. Josie should've invited the rhino, Sir Horns-A-Lot, instead. He's pretty cool."

* * *

 **I actually started this chapter over a month ago but I never got around to writing it as much because school has me busy and honestly, I wasn't feeling like writing it. I am doing this thing now where I'm not forcing myself to write unless I really want to.**

 **I wasn't in the mood for writing some romantic fluff but who knows, maybe that will be the next chapter (and don't ask when that will come out).**

 **This story is technically on hiatus but unlike my three other stories, this one will be getting super slow updates. I have started the next chapter and will most definitely post a Christmas chapter.**

 **I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY!**

 _ **Stay Tuned**_ **\- is Maxon the type of man who will be able to fix something in the castle?**


	103. Photo 103: It's 9:46 Somewhere

**I love how y'all were more into what happened to that sandwich.**

 **Okay, so apparently this idea came from** ** _Winter_** **in** ** _The Lunar Chronicles_** **series but after seeing what the idea was, I genuinely have no clue where in the book it came from. You'll understand by the end of the chapter if you know the book.**

 **I actually bothered to publish this at 9:46 PM because I am dedicated to this story.**

* * *

Photo #103: It's 9:46 Somewhere

Eadlyn and her brothers have been raised on a simple, humble philosophy: don't call for maid or maintenance service unless you desperately need help. It was so they wouldn't grow up as brats who took advantage of the castle staff. They were more than blessed to have them at their fingertips but they were never allowed to be dependant on them because that would make them incredibly lazy. Besides, it would be easier to take five minutes to clean up a spill rather than take ten minutes to call for a maid, wait for them to arrive, and have them clean it up.

Maybe this photo is an example of that, maybe it's not. Either way, the photo triggered that moral to come up to the surface.

It has her mother's wrist as the main focus, showcasing the watch she's wearing. In the background of the photo, her father is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. On his lap is a clock. Eadlyn is confused as to why this strange photo brought up that memory and what connection it has to this photo. Also, she wonders why this photo even exists.

But after looking at it closer, she notices that the time on her mother's watch and the time on the clock are the same.

Still, nothing's clicking (or should she say _ticking_?)

-o-

America walks through the hallway, noticing her husband from a distance. The closer she gets to approaching him, the more she notices that he's just standing in the same spot, staring at something intensely. In fact, Maxon didn't even notice her presence until she was right beside him and had to fake a cough to get his attention. It was like he was in some sort of trance. And when America turned to see what hypnotized him so intensely, she was unamused to see a clock sitting on a side table.

"What is so attractive in this clock that is probably older than me?" America asks.

"This clock has been at the same time for so long," Maxon says, focusing back on it. "I think it's broken."

"How long has it been?"

"Not sure. I can't keep track of time on a broken clock."

America nods her head, seeing his point. Maxon takes the clock in his hand and turns it around. He opens a hatch in the back and grunts a little when he sees that it's not a battery-operated clock but a small grandfather clock. That means that the problem isn't in the power source because there isn't one. The issue is in the clock's actual mechanic parts.

"I'll take a look at this," Maxon says.

"Maxon, it's just a decorative clock," she says to save him the struggle. "There's no need to fix it - or for _you_ to fix it."

"Clocks are vital," he argues. "They tell time."

She can't argue against that. America opens an arm, gesturing for him to take some space should he need it. He takes a seat on the floor, putting the clock on his lap. He rolls up his sleeves up to his elbow before figuring out how and where he was going to pry into the clock. America has to stop herself from finding this attractive because it will only look sexy up to here since Maxon knows absolutely nothing on fixing anything let alone clocks.

"Maybe we should call for help," America suggests.

"I have this under control," Maxon replies as he starts poking around at all the gears.

America remains standing in front of Maxon, seeing the best he could do. After a few pokes, there is no solution. America doesn't want to say that she told him so because that would be too mean. It'd be nicer to say that the clock isn't the only one not ticking around here. But still, America keeps her clock jokes to herself for another _time_ of day. (She saves that one as well).

"This is going to be intense," America says, pretending she's into this. "I'll bring some wine."

"No!" Maxon yells at her. "I need to be sober to do this."

"You clearly can't do this while sober."

Maxon mocks her before returning to try and fix the clock. America laughs to herself as she leaves. She comes back later with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. She even brought Maxon's camera which hangs around his neck. Maxon doesn't look up at her since he is too focused on fixing this clock but if anyone were to ask America, she saw no progress from when she was last here. She pours them both glasses of wine but since he was too busy with his clock, she cheers both their glasses for him.

She never thought that her toughest competition for Maxon's undying attention would be a clock.

"You know," America starts, "grandfather clocks have a life expectancy of about 10-15 years before developing a major internal mechanical problem which will make it fail to run or simply run well."

Maxon looks up at her with a perplexed expression as if she should be the one fixing the clock. "How on Earth did you know that?"

"I asked the castle's mechanic when I went to get the wine."

Maxon rolls his eyes to himself as America laughs. Maxon drinks his entire glass of wine in one sip and America pours him some more once he put his glass down.

"I am not perfect for you, but I'm still trying," Maxon says.

"And kind of failing," America responds.

Maxon's face suddenly becomes deadpanned, expecting a more sentimental response. "Thanks, dear."

"You're not even fixing the clock, you're breaking it even more."

Maxon's face doesn't budge. It becomes as frozen as the time on the clock. America doesn't say anything more but takes another sip from her wine glass. He downs his entire wine glass again but stops America from refilling it.

"Maybe, we should just trash this clock," Maxon suggests.

"A broken clock is right twice a day," America says optimistically.

"And is it 9:46 right now?" Maxon asks sarcastically.

America glances at her watch and grins. "Actually, yes."

Maxon rolls his eyes in pure coincidence. "Well, it's 9:46 somewhere."

"Yes. Here."

Maxon narrows his eyes are her for not getting his sarcasm (she did that on purpose). America holds up her arm in front of Maxon with her wrist facing her so that the watch's face can be seen. She snaps a picture of it, making sure that the broken clock and Maxon's face can be seen. It was little rare moments like this that make married life a blast.

* * *

 ** _Stay Tuned_** **\- (I have no clue but I want to say that it's going to be Christmas. Either way, there is definitely going to be a Christmas chapter)**


	104. Photo 104: Everyday's Christmas

**MERRY (almost) CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!**

 **I just wrote my first winter exam and it went amazing so, here you all go!**

* * *

Photo #104: Everyday's Christmas

Eadlyn's initial reaction when seeing this photo is to smile, and she does for a bit. That is before she thinks too deep into all possible outcomes of current events.

It's Christmas in the photo - or possibly around Christmas time. The castle is decorated for the holidays so that is Eadlyn's only clue that the photo takes place around that time of year.

Eadlyn isn't quite sure because the photo is just her mother decorating the giant Christmas tree that is always at the base of the main spiral staircase. That just gets Eadlyn thinking how if her mother goes - God forbid - then, Christmas will never be the same again. Sure, she'll still have her father and brothers, and all of their family friends, but her mother won't be there. And that Christmas would be known as the first Christmas without her which nobody ever wants.

-o-

Maxon walks out of his office and makes his way to the staircase to head down. Before he could even take one step, his mind has to process what he's seeing. The Christmas tree is up, half-decorated. There are boxes all over the floor with Christmas decorations spilling out if not already on the ground. There are wreaths hanging on the walls in between the windows and garland wrapped around the staircase's railing.

Did all of this happen while he was working? How did he not hear all this?

America pops out from behind the tree and Maxon skips down the stairs to approach her. He notices that his wife is tangled in Christmas tree lights and tries to get her out of it.

"Do you like it so far?" America asks, opening her arms the best that she can to show off what she has done so far.

"It's making me cringe in my future grave," Maxon says.

America pinches his cheeks a little. "Oh, hush, you love this."

"Christmas isn't for another month!"

America shrugs. "I'm preparing."

Once America's free from the Christmas lights, she starts wrapping it around the tree. Maxon watches her for a little and smiles when she finishes a loop and stares at him. She just ignores him and continues doing her thing. America completes another circle and when she faces Maxon again, he's staring at her with that smirk on his face that she knows has a thought process in his head.

"What?" America asks.

"I have been mesmerized by your laughter, intoxicated by your scent, and fallen for your quirky attitudes," Maxon tells her.

America rolls her eyes which only makes Maxon laugh. Flattery was nice. She didn't hate it but she just didn't appreciate it at the moment after he questioned her early decorating for the holidays. This was not a _quirky attitude_ , this is simply happiness.

America pulls out a wreath from a box and places it on his head. She brushes off her hands as it sits on his hair like an itchy crown. He leaves it there as he goes back to watching her decorate. She takes an angel decoration out from its special sparkled box and fawns in its sight. Maxon smirks with a small laugh. He watches as America skips up the stair steps so she could reach the top of the tree. She carefully stretches over the railing, craning her arms outwards. She's careful not to drop it as she slides the angel on the top vertical branch.

America cheers to herself as she saunters back down the stairs and Maxon can't help himself but smile. It gets even better when America flips a switch and all the small colourful lights around the tree turn on. America shouts for joy and Maxon instantly feels like today is Christmas. Maxon loves to see her like this. The look on her face when she does something she didn't think she could so is his favourite sight.

His ongoing wonder of how she managed to get the giant tree in here on her own and so quiet as well as set it up and start decorating it just skips his mind. He doesn't want to think that he was so engrossed in his work, but it sure seems to look like that. Speaking of forgetting something, he almost didn't realize the absence of something extremely important.

"Wait, America, where are the kids?" Maxon asks her.

America looks around her and over her shoulders. She doesn't seem to be too concerned about whether or not her kids are here.

"They're somewhere in that mess," America says, waving a hand vaguely towards the mess of Christmas decorations. Maxon frowns at her as she bends down to get more decorations. America turns over a little to see his expression. "Keep frowning like that and you might not get lucky tonight."

Maxon perks up, suddenly grinning. "Wait, what?"

America laughs a little at Maxon's reaction. "I'm going to start baking some holiday treats and need you to taste test them, what did you think I meant?"

Maxon expression falters in the most embarrassed way. She knows what he thought she meant because she was purposely playing at that angle. However, to him, it doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is that even though it's not Christmas on the calendar, it's still Christmas…and he loves her cupcakes so, at the end of the day, he is lucky.

"But look, I didn't forget your favourite," America says.

Maxon looks to where she points and it's at the centre of the top part of the doorframe. There hangs mistletoe. Maxon stands up to get a better look at it and America follows, standing behind him. He turns around and immediately pulls her close, dipping her downwards just to kiss her in the most old-fashioned way possible.

He did get lucky tonight.

* * *

 **I don't know about you guys, but the moment November 1st came, it was Christmas.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_** _-_ **(it's a sneak peek) Maxon could've sworn that he saw America there…**


End file.
